


In the Cards

by LizEBoredom



Series: In the Cards [1]
Category: America's Most Eligible (Visual Novels), The Heist: Monaco (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Con Artists, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jealousy, Mind Games, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Physical Abuse, Pregnancy Scares, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 08:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18090737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizEBoredom/pseuds/LizEBoredom
Summary: Myrah Graves won Season 10 of America’s Most Eligible after being cast as the Girl Next Door. But her sweetheart persona hides a dark past, skeletons that she’d prefer to keep buried. When she is teamed up with Vince in the All Stars season, will she be able to beat him at his own game, or will playing with fire get her burned?





	1. Bad as Me [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This fic came to me as I was playing through AME All Stars. I sensed some sexual tension during the dance competition and into the next chapter, and now with Vince paired with the MC there’s all kinds of potential for drama. Since I decided to be a flirt this time around, I wondered what would happen if my MC wasn’t a perfect angel, and decided to use Vince to get to the top. Smut ensues.

“You ride like you’ve done this before, beautiful.”

A whisper in her ear, a hand on the small of her back. Both have her thinking things she knows she shouldn’t be thinking.

“I’ve never been in a saddle, if that’s what you’re asking,” she responded lightly, trying to ignore the way his hand had slipped underneath her cardigan and was now lightly caressing her skin.

“That’s not what I meant, and I think you know it.”

He’d spoken it as though issuing a challenge, one she was having a hard time resisting. She wanted so badly to hate him, to treat him with the same cold disregard she felt for Ivy, but there was something about him that was so… _intoxicating_.

“You, uh…you did pretty damn well up there yourself. Have you done this before?” she asked, in an attempt to move his attention off her and back onto himself.

“I have a cousin on the rodeo scene,” he shrugged. “He taught me a thing or two last time I visited.”

The hand on her back had begun inching lower.

“Enough about that,” his voice, husky from the alcohol and the hour, was low in her ear. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since we danced together. How about you and I take another turn on the dance floor?”

He pulled her closer to him and a thrill ran through her. She glanced at Mackenzie and Adam still sitting together at their table, feeling slightly guilty knowing how they felt about Vince. How could she be standing here wishing Vince would drag her off to a dark corner when Adam looked at her like she’d hung the moon and stars? Her mind told her this was a bad idea, but her body responded to his touch as though she were made just for him.

“Let’s do it,” she answered, letting the double meaning of the invitation hang in the air.

He raised an eyebrow, a smug grin spreading across his face. He grasped her hand and led her out among the dancers, pulling her tightly against him as he began to move his hips to the beat. The music wasn’t really her thing, and she could guess from what she knew of him that it wasn’t his either, but the way he moved his body in time to the twangy beat made her forget what was even playing.

She laced her hands behind his neck, moving her body with his, as he moved closer to her, those piercing blue eyes locked on hers. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her, the very idea of it thrilling her, sending heat pulsing through her veins. His hands were on her hips, guiding her movement as he dipped his head down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I see there’s more to you than meets the eye,” he said, his lips almost touching hers. All she’d need to do would be to close the very short gap between them…

“You’re more than just some pretty face. I can see why everyone from your season is so enamored by you.”

She felt her face grow hot, though whether from the compliment or the heat of the club, she couldn’t say. She lowered her eyes before looking back at him, those eyes still piercing her, pinning her in place.

“I…”

She tried to say something, but words were failing her as she stared at him. She’d never found herself at a loss for words like this. She was usually the one in control, the  _flirt_ , the person who didn’t let herself get carried away. And yet, here she was falling, and falling  _hard_ , for someone who was so utterly bad for her, someone she  _detested_ … someone so utterly  _like_  her.

This was supposed to be a simple cat and mouse, a ruse to lure him away from Ivy after what she’d overheard in the kitchen, but after they danced together in the first challenge, she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. Every movement, every whisper, each time he touched her as he walked past… he’d found ways to communicate with her, secretly passing her messages as they’d brush past each other on the way to or from the confessional. It all made her wonder if he was really as affected by her as she was by him, or whether he was playing a long con like he had with Adam.

But right now none of that mattered. Not his betrayal, not Adam, not the old grudges from past seasons. What mattered right now was the closeness of their bodies, his voice like silk in her ear whispering the myriad things he’d like to do to her if the cameras weren’t trained on them.

“You shouldn’t tease if you’re not gonna follow through, Vince,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.

He had no idea the kind of fire he was playing with. Myrah had dealt with men like him before. Growing up in “Gibtown” with her human blockhead father, Myrah had been exposed to her fair share of slick, polished men who found themselves curious about the “freaks.” When they’d meet her, their curiosity turned to something else, their eyes turning more predatory. She would never forget the glint of their shiny watches, glittering gold in the sun as she lured them back into a darkened tent with the promises of pleasure, of their freakshow fantasies being fulfilled. Once inside the cool canvas tent, as she laid them down amid the silks and pillows, getting the men to just enough of a state of undress that there would be no question what was going on, her brother would emerge. Feigning anger, he would hurl accusations at the men of taking advantage of his “virginal” sister before taking those shiny watches and the contents of their wallets to make up for the shame their family would have to endure.

She smirked. No, she wasn’t going to allow herself to fall victim to whatever game Vince was playing. She was always the one in control and she wasn’t about to stop now. Walking her fingers up his chest, she waited for him to make the next move. She was going to let him believe he was the one calling the shots. Biting her lower lip, she pressed herself even closer to him, feeling a groan vibrating through his chest.

“I promise you, Myrah, I have every intention of following through.”

“Why don’t we sneak away to the beach after we get back to the house?”

“I like the way you think.”

They rejoined the others once the song was over, unable to stop stealing glances at each other as Mackenzie and Adam attempted to engage Myrah in conversation while freezing Vince out. She did her best to keep the peace among the group for the remainder of the date, but she was exhausted by the end of it, the quiet tension hanging inside the limo on the ride back to the mansion like the storm clouds that would roll in off the Gulf on a hot August afternoon, always leaving the air humid and heavy so that to breathe felt like too much effort.  

It was a relief to finally get out of the car, away from the hostility, from the larger-than-life personalities always performing for the cameras. Even though she grew up in a family of performers, she didn’t know anyone besides her brother Peter who was so “ _on_ ” all the damn time. It had to be exhausting to live like that. It was certainly exhausting to be around it all the time. As she was leaning over the counter in the kitchen, drinking water to prevent a hangover in the morning, a voice that sounded like silk and sex pierced through the armor she’d put back up.

“So how about it, Myrah? Still up for a little rendezvous on the beach?”

Her eyes fluttered closed, letting that voice wash over her. His proximity, his scent, and  _damn_  that voice…she was already putty in his hands.

_Don’t ever fall for the marks, Myrah._ Her dad’s voice rang in her ears.  _Never let yourself fall. That’s weakness. The world never showed no kindness to us. Any sign of weakness is another way they can hurt you. They can take everything away from you._  She knew he was talking about her mama. She barely had any memories of her, except that she was pretty and wore sparkly costumes while she flew in the air. She left them one day with some man with a thousand-watt smile and a seersucker suit.

Her dad started drinking a lot more after that and couldn’t perform as much because the drink made it dangerous for him. Myrah and Peter were left holding the pieces, performing, hustling, and doing whatever side work came along just to scrape by. How would any of her fellow contestants react if they found out about her past? How would Vince react? Worse, how would he use the information against her?

She looked back at him over her shoulder, noticing how his eyes roved appreciatively up and down her body. It would be so easy to be drawn in by him. She remembered thinking last season that she could drown in his eyes. It was hard to remember why she was supposed to hate him when it was just the two of them, but she couldn’t afford to let herself forget.

_Eyes on the prize, baby girl_. Her father’s voice always playing in her head.  _You let ‘em think they’re the ones calling the shots, that they’re the ones in control. When you get ‘em in your trap, that’s when you strike._  She just needed to lure him in, like she’d done so many times before. Putting on her most seductive smile, she turned and walked toward him, chest out, hips swaying.

Standing in front of Vince, not quite as close as they’d been in the club earlier, but still close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, she ran a hand up his bare torso. He was already dressed for the beach.

“I think that little rendezvous sounds like a good idea,” she purred.

He smirked.

“So I guess you’ve changed your mind about me then, huh? Not worried I’ll hurt your precious Adam’s feelings?”

“Oh, I don’t trust you at all,” she said leaning forward to press her lips to his.

“ _Not. One. Bit_ ,” she continued, kissing him as a punctuation to each word.

He laughed.

“At least you’re honest,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her closer, returning her kisses with more passionate ones, causing her knees to go weak. “Let’s go, before someone sees us.”

He pulled her outside, not letting go of her hand until they’d reached the sand, and only then to pull her into another searing kiss, his fingers digging into her hips. When they pulled apart, they stared at each other so intensely Myrah thought she might combust from the energy passing between them. They stayed like that for several beats, heated gazes and heavy breathing, crashing waves and calling shorebirds, skin touching skin.

She wasn’t sure who was the first to move, but before she was aware of what was happening they had crashed back together, hands wandering, her shirt was pulled over her head, tossed aside without thought. His lips trailed down her throat, teeth scraping flesh.

She gasped as she felt his hand slide under her skirt, cupping her sex. She took his earlobe between her teeth, tugging gently as she grasped his wrist to guide his hand into her panties. He made a low growling noise as his fingers slid through her folds, feeling how wet she was for him. He spread her juices across her clit, his fingers applying just the right amount of pressure to make her knees weak. He drew slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, her fingers digging into his shoulders to keep herself grounded and upright.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped as he slipped his other arm around her waist, holding her steady while his lips explored the sensitive skin on her neck.

“Fuck, Myrah,” he groaned, his breath hot against her skin. “I want you. I’ve wanted to touch you like this since that fucking dance challenge.”

_It’s just a game_ , she told herself. _Don’t fall for his bullshit. Stay in control and you’ll never get hurt._

“I want you, too. Vince,” she said, grabbing his hair and pulling his head up so she could look him in the eye. “I want you inside me.”

She watched as his ice blue eyes darkened, the look on his face a combination of the familiar and unexpected. She saw the lust, the want, the hunger that she’d anticipated, but there was something else there. Something smug that simultaneously disgusted her and turned her on.

He quickly removed the remainder of her clothes, leaving her standing bare before him. She stared at him boldly as he stared at her body with a look of admiration. Years of high wire and trapeze had sculpted her body so that she was lithe and firm, all legs and lean muscle. She knew she was sexy, but it didn’t hurt her ego to have him appreciate it.

“You’re even more beautiful than I’d pictured,” his low voice rumbled in her ear, causing goosebumps to erupt across her skin.

“How often have you thought of me naked?” she wondered aloud.

“Far too often. Like I said, I’ve been wanting this.”

_I see you, Vince. You’re the same kind of bad as me._

He captured her lips again as she untied his swim trunks, pushing them down over his hips. He helped her, pulling them further down and stepping out of them, his desire for her evident.

“Get down on your knees,” he said, sending another wave of heat coursing through her at the commanding tone.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly as she slowly kneeled, her nails lightly raking down his chest the whole way down. She grasped his cock with one hand, licking a line up the underside before taking him in her mouth. He hissed his approval, winding his hand through her hair to pull her away. She looked at him in confusion.

“As much as I’d enjoy that, it wasn’t the reason I wanted you on your knees, Myrah.”

“Oh? Then why did you…”

“The sand. I wanted to keep some distance between us and the sand.”

_Oh. Right. Sand and sex don’t really go together._

“So you’ll be joining me down here, then?”

He grinned.

“That was the idea, yes.”

He walked around to kneel behind her, pulling her backwards against him. She could feel his erection pressing against her as he ran his hands up and down her body. He licked the area from her shoulder up to her ear, taking her earlobe between his teeth as he reached down to circle her clit again.

As she rocked against his hand, she could feel his hips rocking with hers, could feel his cock pressed against her ass as she moved, the sensation and seduction of it all making her dizzy until she was lost in the pleasure of it all. Before long he nudged her forward until she was resting on her hands and knees, feeling him line himself up with her entrance.

“Tell me this is what you want, Myrah. Tell me how much you want me.”

“I want this, Vince. I want  _you_. Fuck me.  _Please_.”

With that, he plunged himself into her, stretching her, moving at an agonizingly slow pace. She circled her hips, pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Faster.”

He complied, thrusting faster and deeper and hitting her at just the right angle that brought an intense orgasm washing over her, leaving her breathless and panting. He pulled her back up against him, increasing his pace as he kissed her neck.

“You feel  _so. Fucking. Good_ ,” he moaned, before his own release overtook him.

They collapsed together in the sand, sweating and sated. She’d expected that he’d just immediately gather his things and head back inside, but he pulled her in close to him, holding her as her thundering heart began to slow back down.

They lay there in comfortable silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, the only sounds around them were the sounds of the waves breaking on the shore. She could feel herself drifting slowly into sleep and knew she’d need to get up and head back inside soon so they weren’t found like this in the morning, but she also found she was enjoying lying here in his arms. He kissed her temple and then leaned over her to look her in the eyes.

“I know you don’t trust me, and that you probably think the worst of me after what Adam’s told you,” he said. “But you’re still here. Why?”

_Why, indeed? What the hell are you doing out here with him, Myrah?_

“I … honestly don’t know. I know I shouldn’t trust you. Hell, I shouldn’t even  _like_ you. But I do. You intrigue me, Vince, and I want to get to know you better. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find you attractive.”

He grinned at her. There was that smug look from before, but there was something else behind it this time. Something softer. Something that looked like… like he  _cared_. Did he care?

_No, girl. Remember who you are. Don’t fall for the mark. Never fall for them._

He leaned in to kiss her again.

“I hope I intrigue you enough that we’ll be able to do this again. I think I’m going to enjoy getting to know you, Myrah.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” she said, trailing a finger down his cheek. “We should, uh…we should probably head back inside, don’t you think?”

She tried to ignore the look of disappointment that crossed his face as he agreed. She snuck a look at him as she was getting dressed, and caught him watching her. She smirked. This was going to be an interesting season.


	2. Castles in the Sand [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: they’re back! Both Myrah and Vince have some soul searching to do. When she plays with the Devil, is Myrah going to get burned? A sandcastle challenge, a hard talk, and some make-up sex all leave her wondering. Special thanks to @boneandfur for the tarot reading!!

Myrah walked out of the dressing room, her mind still reeling from the conversation she’d had with Mackenzie and Fatimah. Of course, she’d seen Vince near the controls of the mechanical bull the previous night, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind that he might have deliberately put Adam in danger.

_Just another reason not to trust him, girl. You can’t trust anybody but yourself._

She tried to shake off her guilt. She was just using Vince anyway, the same way he was surely using her. It wasn’t like there was anything between them, right? It was just a one-time thing, enough for them to both get what they wanted, and maybe enough to sway him to her corner in the event Ivy decided to cheat again.

When they’d found out they would be working as partners for the rest of the season…well, she couldn’t say she was disappointed. She hated so many things about Vince. How selfish and smug he was, his cockiness, his willingness to do whatever it took to get ahead regardless of who he hurt along the way. Could she say she was any better, though? She was playing the game, too, wasn’t she? And even though she hated to admit it, she did find that bastard attractive. And last night had proved to her that he had the skills to back all that smug self-satisfaction up.

As she walked onto the beach, the memories of the night before played in her mind. The hot sand and the sound of the water bringing her back to his voice in her ear, his hands on her body, his lips on her skin. She felt a warmth spread through her that she knew had nothing to do with the mid-day sun or the notorious summertime humidity. She was thankful for the warm breeze coming off the water cooling her down.

Everyone turned to face Carson as he turned on his “announcer voice” to let them know what their next challenge would be. She tried to avoid Slater’s eyes as he flashed her a crooked grin and a saucy wink that probably worked on the beach bunnies he was used to. He was definitely attractive, and if need be, she would have no problem cozying up to him. If she felt a pang of guilt she ignored it. Guilt was for those who afford it. Those who lived in comfort and conformity. She turned back to Slater with a smirk and brazenly winked back. She had a job to do and damn it, she was going to do it well.

When Carson announced the day’s challenge was building a sandcastle, she groaned internally. As much as she loved the ocean, she  _hated_  sand. And what the hell kind of challenge was this anyway? Just as she was about to say as much to Carson, Jen caught her eye and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Right. She had to perform for the cameras. Turning on her most charming smile, she asked how soon they could begin. This apparently didn’t sit well with Vince, who turned to her with a frown.

“Honestly, Myrah, if something as childish as  _sandcastles_  gets you excited, that would explain a lot…”

She felt a sharp pain in her chest. This certainly wasn’t the same man who’d held her in his arms last night. Gone was tender, caring Vince and back was the asshole she’d hated at the beginning of the season. She guessed she wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t like they’d made any promises to each other. As everyone moved to their spots along the sand to get started, Vince grabbed her by the wrist to lead her to a spot farther away from the other contestants. He positioned them so that his back was to the cameras, and spoke to her in a low tone.

“Just remember this is all for the cameras, okay?”

He looked at her imploringly, willing her to trust him, to believe him. But she knew this game. She was playing it, too. She kept her face blank, simply nodding back with a small smile.

“We’ll build here. A classic medieval castle should do,” he announced imperiously. “You get started on the base and I’ll –“

“Hang on, shouldn’t we be planning this together?” she hissed at him through her plastered-on smile.

“Don’t be difficult, Myrah. I’m not going to waste my time debating half-baked ideas.”

She could feel the heat rush to her face, a tell-tale sign she was turning red. The one sign of anger she wasn’t able to conceal despite her best efforts. She couldn’t keep the venom out of her voice.

“Difficult? Who do you think you’re talking to right now?”

_I’m the woman you were just with last night, you dick._  She watched as his own anger flared up, a scowl twisting his handsome features. She didn’t even recognize the man standing in front of her.

“Honestly? Someone who’ll slow me down. Or worse, someone who’ll cost  _me_  my victory.”

“You are  _such_  a –“

“Myrah!” Jen’s voice cut through their argument. “Can I see you for a moment?”

With a final, withering look back at Vince, she stalked off in Jen’s direction.

“I’m going to kill him, Jen.”

“That’ll get you both disqualified and arrested, and we can’t have either of those things happening. Don’t let him get to you, Myrah. Try to play nice.”

_Don’t let it get to you, Myrah bird._  She remembered the advice she’d got from Lulu when she’d cried in her trailer after she caught the boy she was dating sleeping with a “normal” in the horse barn. She’d gone in to fetch some rope to lash down some of the equipment ahead of a big storm, and heard them before she saw them, the shock from seeing them together keeping her from reacting until she’d found herself on the floor of Lulu’s trailer, face down in the plush cushions and crying her eyes out. Lulu had made her some hot tea mixed with whiskey and laid out her tarot deck while talking.  _There’s no honor amongst thieves, my little bird, and we’re nothing but a pack of thieves here._

Myrah put on her best cheery grin and headed back to Vince, who looked up at her in surprise. In a voice that dripped honey, she quietly decided to remind him of his place. Her fingers trailed from his cheek to beneath his chin, holding him in place while she fixed him with a smoldering look.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she said, her tone commanding, but low and sultry. She knew what he liked, and she was going to play on that. “We’re gonna work together. Nicely. And we’re going to make the  _best … damn … sandcastle_  this beach has ever seen.”

Releasing her hold on him, she gestured to the pile of sand around him.

“What’s all this?”

He looked to still be unnerved by her complete change in attitude.

“I … I was … I was going to put a tower here…”

She smirked at him, smugly, much in the same way he’d done to her earlier. She couldn’t help but allow a bit of condescension creep into her voice.

“There?  _Really_? That’s what  _everyone_  else is going to do,” she said. She leaned into him, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she spoke. “I thought you wanted to set us apart as the frontrunners. So  _prove_  it.”

Satisfaction washed over her as she saw his reaction to her little stunt. A small shudder ran down his body and goosebumps erupted on his flesh. She placed a hand on his thigh as she continued talking.

“We’ll build a modern sandcastle. Picture it,” she said, keeping her tone low and light, her eyes full of promise and seduction. “A  _sleek_ monument, one that’s both artistic and surreal.”

She’d leaned into him so far they were almost nose to nose. His expression remained unreadable, but she could feel him trembling where she was touching him.

“Think about it,” she said, pulling back away from him. “Nobody else is gonna take a risk like that. And between the two of us, I think we can pull it off.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before grinning at her.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get started.”

Once he’d finally agreed to work  _with_  her, they were able to work together quite easily, making quick work of the base of the sandcastle. Neither spoke, the air between them still heavy with their earlier argument. She resisted the urge to apologize. She knew she wasn’t the one in the wrong and even if she were, she was never the first to apologize.

She could hear some of the others talking to each other, enjoying their partners’ company. As she looked wistfully around at everyone else, she wished she and Vince could work together as partners. Where was the man she’d danced with? The one who’d swept her off her feet just the night before? A frustrated sigh escaped her at the thought. Vince must have heard it.

“Sounds like you’d like to be anywhere else right now,” he said flatly.

Did she dare hope that he wanted this to work?  _Don’t be stupid, Myrah. He’s just another mark. Do what you need to do, but don’t hope that he’s ever gonna be anything other than what he is – a selfish ass._

“No, it’s just…I wish we could just clear the air. I want to act like  _real_ partners. I want to be  _your partner_ , Vince.”

“So you just want to make the most of the fact that we’re stuck together?”

“You didn’t seem to care so much when you were  _stuck_  with me last night.”

“That’s different, and you know it.”

“Oh, is it?  _Do_  enlighten me, then. Exactly how is it okay for you to fuck me, but not okay for you to be my partner?”

“Because I want to  _win_  and I don’t need  _anyone_  pulling me down, damn it.”

“Oh, so I’m just dead weight?”

“Damn it, Myrah, that’s not what I…”

“Just  _stop_. We’re stuck together whether  _you_  like it or not. You’re going to have to work with me anyway, so we might as well make the most of it. Don’t you think it would be easier for us to work together instead of against each other?”

“And how do you propose we do that?

“Why don’t we start by getting to know each other? If we’re gonna be an effective team, you’ll need to learn to open up to me.”

Vince huffed, but finally nodded his agreement.

“Fine. I guess you’re not as insufferable as some of these people anyway, so let’s work together.”

“Great. So tell me, what makes you happy?”

He laughed, probably the first real laugh she’d heard from him all day.

“Are you suggesting I’m a chronically unhappy person?”

“I think the only genuine smile I’ve seen out of you was while we were having sex, so … yes.”

He looked away for a moment, as though unable to meet her eyes.

“ _Power_  makes me happy, Myrah. It’s the key to success, stability, self-assurance. And when you have all three, what more do you need? Aside from good wine, of course.”

_I guess we’re more alike than I wanted to admit._ She thought of her brother Peter. Last she’d heard from him he was somewhere in Monaco running scams on tourists, chasing those same three things.

“I notice you didn’t mention anything about family. Or friends.”

“I supposed that may seem odd to you, but I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said, bitterness edging into his voice. “You can  _never_ rely on other people to bring you happiness. All it will do is hold you back.”

_Don’t rely on anyone else for happiness, my bird. You get your happiness when you’re flying through the air on that trapeze, not from the boy who catches you._ Lulu shuffled her cards, always giving Myrah a three-card reading while lecturing her about whatever had broken her heart that week.  _The problem with you, Myrah, is that you trust people too easily. You wear your heart on your sleeve like your daddy used to, and look where it got him._

For a moment she thought she could smell the incense from Lulu’s trailer as she sat staring at Vince, wondering whether he  _knew_. But he couldn’t possibly. Nobody knew. Her dad’s stage name was enough to protect their real identities, so that she and Peter managed to stay out of the news after what happened.

“I … I guess I never thought of it that way,” she lied.

He chuckled. “And here you were, thinking I was the big, bad Vince everyone warned you about,” he said, his voice dropping low as he searched her face. “It’s always better to check for yourself if the rumors are true. Especially if the rumors are started by jealous, bitter people.”

“And just when I thought you could be a decent person, you go and say something like that.”

“I’m not being harsh, Myrah. I’m just being honest. Truthful. Some people can’t stand being beaten. It doesn’t mean I don’t …  _can’t_  care.”

“I don’t get you. Why are you picking fights with Adam?”

“Well, you don’t mince words, do you, sweetheart?”

“Why would I? He clearly wants nothing to do with you. After that stunt you pulled with the bull, maybe he should press charges.”

He looked genuinely surprised.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but I had no control over what happened at the bar. And as I recall, you weren’t raising accusations like this last night. And as for me ‘picking fights’ with Adam, am I not allowed to try to make amends with old friends?”

They glared at each other for a moment in another heated standoff. She decided to go back to the shoreline for more water and to cool off before one of them said something they couldn’t take back. She wished she didn’t respond to that smug bastard the way she did, but there was something that pulled her back to him time and time again. As much as she wanted to slap him sometimes, she wanted a repeat of last night even more.

Vince was waiting for her when she returned, looking genuinely apologetic.

“Look, Myrah. I get that you have some problems with my tactics. But I’d like to explain where I’m coming from.”

She decided she should let him talk. He seemed like he was making a real effort in that moment, and she wanted to hear him out.

“Fine.”

“I’m all about the mind game. I mean, sure, you can best your opponents through brute force, but it’s far more effective to conquer their confidence. It’s human nature to zero in on another’s weakness… and to strike when the moment’s right. You may think it’s cruel, but that’s  _the game._ ”

She knew she couldn’t argue with that. Not really. Isn’t that what she’d been doing for years? Luring tourists into her trap, where she and Peter basically robbed them. For what? A few hundred here and there? Sure it was needed. Her dad’s drinking problem meant that the two of them had to fend for themselves and support him, too. Peter ran cons, acted as a barker, and threw knives. She walked the tightrope, swung on the trapeze and swallowed swords in the sideshow. Between what the two of them made, it wasn’t enough.

“Listen,” he continued, “you have no qualms flirting with the other contestants to get screen time…or anything else you want.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So we’re not so different.”  _If he only knew how right he was._ “We both like to win the favor of others and find out what makes them tick. And use that knowledge for our gain.”

“You know what? I get that. And I appreciate that you’re not trying to sugarcoat the truth.”

“I’m glad we had this talk, Myrah. But what I think you should do  _now_  is consider the possibilities.”

Something about his voice when he said that made her body involuntarily respond to him. She moved closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

“And what  _possibilities_  might those be,” she asked breathlessly.

“A  _true_  partnership, for one.”

Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“Just think about it. I’m your best shot at making it to the finale.”

She let his words sink in while he left to get more water. It sounded like he wanted to form an alliance, but only on-screen. What about off-screen? What the hell was last night to him? Anything? Just a one-night stand? Thoughts of Vince haunted her the rest of the day, through the announcement of the bottom two teams, through the announcement of the group date the next day. She found herself sitting alone on the balcony listening to the waves crash on the beach, wondering again about his offer for a “real partnership.”

She drifted back in time to when Peter announced he was leaving to “find his fortune.” After the fire, after they’d lost everything. She’d begged Lulu for one last reading, some semblance of hope among the charred ashes of the meager life she’d built for herself.

_“Please, Lulu? I’ve lost everything. I just need to know if there’s something out there for me.”_

_“You know the cards are only a prediction, pretty bird. Why don’t you just stay with me? Let me be your mama.”_

_“You know I can’t do that. I can’t stay here.”_

_Sighing, Lulu handed her the cards to cut. She shuffled the cut cards, handing them to Myrah to cut again. Placing them into small piles, she had Myrah pull three cards._

_“Magician, Tower, Devil. I see a man in your future, Myrah. A cunning man, with many tricks. He’ll shake you to your foundation and leave destruction in his wake. Take care not to let the two of you become bound to one another, my bird, for like the Devil, he’ll try to steal your soul.”_

_“Are…are you sure about this?”_

_“Pull your Fate, child.”_

_Myrah pulled the last card._

_“Wheel of Fortune. Everything changes with the turn of a card, the roll of the dice, the flip of a coin. Do not let your hand off the Wheel for an instant, or someone else will take that power.”_

_Power…_ She startled as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching her from behind.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I hope… I hope we’re okay.”

She sighed, knowing they weren’t going to resolve any of this in a day. Placing her hand on his, she gave it a light squeeze, continuing to look out into the darkness in the direction of the ocean she knew was out there. Her mind drifting again to their rendezvous on the beach the night before.

“We’re okay,” she answered, knowing it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, not when one of them was going to screw the other one over at some point. She knew she was playing with fire … but did he?

His hand moved to her neck, rubbing lightly to ease the tension there.

“That’s good. I was afraid after this afternoon that…”

He trailed off, not finishing the thought. She looked up him, surprised at the look on his face. Gone was the smug, arrogant asshole she’d come to associate him with. In his place was someone vulnerable, afraid of being hurt. Which one of these faces was really his? Were both his?

She stood and crossed over to him, pulling him close to comfort him. She’d become accustomed to comforting others. Peter used to have nightmares, often brought on by their dad’s fits of rage, and she’d sit next to his bed stroking his hair and talking in a soothing voice until he fell back into sleep again.

Similarly, she and Vince stood there in a sweet embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as she stroked his hair. Soon comfort turned into something more, something deeper, more primal. His head had been buried in the crook of her neck, which now gave his lips access to her skin. He kissed his way up to her jaw, finding her lips with his. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her body responding despite her brain screaming at her to  _stop, stop this madness._

They tore at each other’s clothes, restraint long past. They both needed each other, needed  _this_ , two broken people who were brought together by circumstance, two people angry at the world who were willing to use the other to forget, even just for a short time.

Their breaths mingled, hands wandering, lips exploring as they finally rid themselves of any barriers keeping them apart. As skin pressed against skin, Vince pushed her flush onto the couch, trailing kisses down her body, stopping to lavish attention on her breasts. She cried out as his teeth grazed her nipple, sending tingling pleasure shooting straight to her core. He reached down with his hand to run his finger through her folds, moaning when he felt how wet she was already.

“You feel so amazing,” he growled, plunging two fingers into her wet heat, curling his fingers and pumping them in and out until he brought her to the brink of ecstasy. When he finally added his tongue, swirling it around her clit, she thought she might explode. She was certain she would be okay with being bound to the Devil if it brought her pleasure like this. Darkness began to edge out the corners of her vision as white heat exploded behind her eyes. She cried out his name as she fell over the edge, her hands gripping his hair as she rode out her orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” she managed to say, panting as her heart beat in her chest like a wild horse.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, holding eye contact with her as he licked them clean. She thought she might come again just from the sight of it alone. She pulled him up to her for another kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

“I’m good at this, too,” he said, lining himself up with her entrance, hesitating as though waiting for permission. She pushed him back to a sitting position, climbing on top so that she was straddling him. She sucked in a gasping breath as she sank down onto his cock inch by inch, his hands guiding her hips as she began to ride him, her fingers digging into his shoulders for stability.

She was twisting her hips as his own rose to meet her, thrust for thrust, his teeth biting down on her collarbones, on her breasts, certainly marking her skin. She could smell the salt air from the ocean mingling with his cologne. Their movements grew to a feverish pace until he flipped them over so that she was on her back again, his thrusts faster and deeper, as though he were  _claiming_  her, as though somehow this marked her as  _his._

And at that moment she didn’t care. She was happy to be claimed, to be bound by the Devil. She gave him all of herself, pouring everything she had into each thrust of her hips rising to meet his. His hands held hers above her head, his lips lavishing her with attention until finally she fell over the edge again with a shout, his name on her lips. His movements grew more erratic, and she knew he was close.

Wrapping her legs around his waist to allow him to go deeper she continued to arch into him until he was calling her name into the darkness, his cries swallowed by the sea. They lay there together, neither saying a word as they clung tightly to each other.

As she nuzzled into his chest, she thought she heard him whisper, “You’re mine, little bird.”

_Little bird…_ Lulu’s words played in her head, a broken echo of the past.  _Take care not to let the two of you become bound to one another…he’ll try to steal your soul._


	3. Beneath the Waves [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Myrah and Vince are at it again. When Vince acts like an ass, Myrah slips away with Slater during the group date. How will Vince react? Will they forgive each other?

“ _We don’t need a babysitter.”_

_Smug jerk_ , she thought to herself. Once again, the Vince she thought she knew was gone and  _Evil Vince_  was back.

She knew one thing for sure, she was tired of his games. If he wanted to run hot and cold she could play the same game. While Eden distracted the camera men by chatting with Carson, she swam over to Slater.

He really was a good looking man. She normally didn’t go for blondes, but could definitely make an exception in his case. He was clearing out his mask, a common issue for those new to snorkeling, and she admired the way the water cascaded down the well-defined muscles of this shoulders and chest. He was less defined than Vince, but somehow larger, more solid. She could see herself getting lost  in him.

“Hey Slater, how would you feel about exploring more of the reef?” she asked, making sure Vince was within earshot. “Just the two of us?”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered.

“I was actually hoping you’d ask. I know a secret place we could slip off to.”

She looked behind him, making eye contact with Vince, the look on his face unreadable. She was giving him a chance to fix this, to tell her not to go, but he turned away first, submerging himself back under the water. That was all the answer she needed.

“Let’s go,” she said, turning on her most brilliant smile.

Slater smirked in response, leading her away from the rest of the crew, both grinning like fools when they reached the shore.

“I can’t believe we got away with this,” she exclaimed, laughing while the adrenaline coursed through her. It had been so long since she’d openly broken any rules.

“We haven’t gotten away yet,” Slater pointed out. “Hopefully Eden keeps the cameras occupied for a good long while.”

They both looked back at the water, where Eden was now launching walls of water at Ivy, who was trying to hide behind Derek for protection. Her smile almost fell when she saw Vince was staring at them, but she reminded herself not to care.

_You don’t belong to anyone, Myrah. Get it together._

“She looks like she’s got it covered, but if Eden doesn’t do it, then I’m sure Carson will go on some long rant that hogs the cameras’ attention.”

He laughed, looking at her appraisingly.

“Y’know, I knew you’d be my favorite All-Star, but you’re different from what I imagined.”

“Different, huh? More spontaneous than you expected? They labeled me the Girl Next Door last season, which I guess doesn’t exactly scream  _risk-taker_.”

“Not really. But I had a sneaking suspicion there was more to you than meets the eye,” he said.

_If you only knew the half of it…_

“Truth is, you’re chill, laid back, and easy to talk to…and yet here you are, inviting me to break the rules. I get the feeling you’ve got a dark side hiding under the surface.”

She went stiff for a moment, wondering how much to reveal to him. She settled on deflection, hoping the vague reply would be enough.

“I mean, you’re not wrong. After all,” she said, running a finger down his chest, “there’s nothing  _sexier_  than a good girl gone bad.”

She took pleasure in watching his eyes darken, the look of longing crossing his face as he openly admired her lithe body glistening with water in the mid-afternoon sun.

“You’re damn right,” he said, swallowing thickly, his voice husky. “And for the record, I’m  _always_  down to help you indulge your dark side.”

She flashed a sultry smile, looking up at him through her lashes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand and leading her across the beach, through a stand of mangrove trees. They hiked for a short period, trying to avoid the large roots that jutted up from the sandy soil. She’d managed to trip only once, but his strong arms caught her, holding her steady. Her breath caught as she felt herself be pulled back against his solid chest. She wasn’t sure how far she wanted this to go just yet, but she was definitely enjoying the journey.

When they finally made it to the clearing she saw something unexpected.

“A waterfall? In Florida?? How the hell did you find this? I didn’t know we had anything like this here!”

“There are tons of hidden gems here if you know where to look,” he said, his eyes never leaving her.

“I guess I’ll trust you to do the looking for me, then,” she said, sauntering over to the water. Knowing that he was still watching her, she put some extra sway into her hips before diving in. He followed quickly behind, diving in next to her. She openly admired him while he tried to impress her by doing a flip underwater.

He noticed her staring and winked, then nudged her to point out a pufferfish. She’d always loved them, their cuteness combined with their prickly looking exterior a living contradiction. But then, she’d always been drawn to the unusual. How could she not be?

“That was so cute!” she squealed when she finally broke the surface.

“Me or the fish?”

“The fish, obviously. But you’re pretty cute yourself,” she said, swimming closer to him. “Especially when you’re showing off for me.”

“You think I was showing off for you?”

“Come one. We both know you were just trying to look cool.”

“Is it working?”

She laughed. “Remains to be seen, hotshot.”

He grinned at her, reaching out a hand to wipe her hair away from her cheek.

“There was something else down there that caught my eye, though. Be right back.”

She couldn’t imagine what he could possibly have seen at the bottom, but she didn’t question it. She looked around while waiting for him, wishing that she could show this to Vince. She could just imagine the look in his eyes at the sight of the waterfall, the lush greenery that didn’t seem to fit their location at all. She sighed wistfully, knowing that she needed to stop thinking about him. He’d made his choice. He might want to be an ass, but she’d decided she was going to enjoy this date.

She startled when Slater surfaced, the water rippling around him. He was holding something shiny that glinted in the sun. He presented it to her with a flourish and she saw it was what looked like an antique ring.

“That’s gorgeous,” she exclaimed.

“It’s yours,” he said with a wink.

“I like you and all, but isn’t it a bit soon for a ring?” she teased. “We  _just_ met.”

“It isn’t  _that_  kind of ring.”

“You’re just saying that because I shot your proposal down,” she said, giggling.

“I get the feeling I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”

She really was having a good time with him. Could she say the same about the time she’d spent with Vince? Why was she even still thinking about that broody prick? She looked at Slater again. Water droplets were cascading from his hair down his sun-kissed face. He was smiling at her, but there was something more in his eyes. A hint of longing, of lust. She could lose herself in those honey colored eyes…

She closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back with equal fervor, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist underwater, desire building, wanting to feel closer still. His lips trailed down her throat, across her shoulders, across the swell of her breasts at the top line of her swimsuit.

“ _Slater_ ,” she gasped, hoping this would never stop. He brought his lips back to hers, teeth grazing her bottom lip. She rolled her hips against him, causing him to moan. He pulled the top of her suit down with one hand, his lips capturing her nipple, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. Suddenly, unbidden, Vince’s face watching her leave the beach with Slater entered her mind.  _What are you doing, Myrah? Stop thinking about him._  But it was too late. The moment had passed. She pulled away from Slater, both of them breathing hard.

“I think I should sneak away with you more often,” she said, hoping he’d take the gentle rejection well.

“Whenever you want, just say the word,” he said. “We should probably get back, but …this was fun. Hit me up if you feel like breaking the rules again.”

She was glad he was taking this so well. She could hear the subtle, silent invitation.  _I’d very much like to tear your clothes off,_ it said. She wished she felt the same. She was attracted to him, yes, but there was someone else she couldn’t stop thinking about. Someone who was surely going to screw her over if she wasn’t careful.

When they arrived back at the beach, nobody but Eden and Vince seemed to be aware they’d been gone. They continued snorkeling with the others until it started getting dark. The crew set up a bonfire they all gathered around.

They were all swapping stories about their seasons, laughing about the antics of Carson and their fellow contestants. Myrah felt Vince’s eyes boring holes into her. She’d tried to talk to him before they sat down, but he’d just stormed away. She knew it was no use talking to him in front of the cameras because Evil Vince was the only face he showed when the cameras were rolling.

“Something on your mind, Myrah?” she heard Adam ask. She couldn’t exactly tell everyone she was thinking about how her partner wouldn’t speak to her, so she just put on her Girl Next Door act again.

“I was just thinking about how  _nice_  this date was.”

The others agreed, except Vince, of course.

“Somehow I doubt the sincerity of that,” he said, staring daggers at her.

Her worst fears were confirmed. He was convinced she’d snuck off with Slater to have sex with him. And what was worse was that he almost wasn’t wrong. She almost did. Why did she feel so guilty about that?

_You should only give them enough to keep them wanting more, Myrah._ That was what her dad always told her. Her brother Peter was a master at the part that came after, the part where he’d convince the men that they’d compromised her ‘honor’. It had been their father’s idea to use her as bait.  _Men can’t resist a pretty girl, especially if that pretty girl is offering herself up to them on a silver platter. Play on that, girl. A man’s weakness is his ego. Make them think you want them, and they’ll be putty in your hands._  And it worked. Over and over again, it had worked. So why wasn’t it working with Vince?

Beside her, Adam had just risen to give a speech when she heard Vince cry out in pain.

“Adam, what the hell? Why would you kick a flaming log at me?”

She knew what he was trying to do. The same thing Ivy had tried last season when she “fell” in the ocean. The cameras were eating it up, though, surrounding Adam as he tried to defend himself, claiming he’d done nothing wrong. When Vince tried to call him out, saying he’d had a grudge against him since Season 9, Myrah decided she’d had enough of his bullshit.

“Nobody is going to believe any of that,” she said, daring Vince to say something else.

It was Ivy who spoke up this time.

“You’re an expert on grudges, aren’t you Myrah?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Mackenzie asked, coming to Myrah’s rescue.

“It’s obvious that Myrah hasn’t forgiven me for almost beating her last season. Just look at the way she’s been treating me! I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one who framed me for cheating in the last Challenge!”

Myrah had to resist the urge to tell Ivy what she really thought of her. She reminded herself the cameras were still rolling.

“I didn’t frame you. I would never do that! Really, Ivy, I thought you knew me better than that. We spent almost  _all_  of last season together.”

For her part, Ivy looked suitably ashamed of herself.

“I… I guess you have a point. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“So you’re really denying this, Myrah? Even after I saw you sneak away during the sandcastle Challenge?”

Vince’s words hit her like a cold slap to the face. She’d expect this from Ivy. She’d even expected him to say something like this about another contestant. But she’d never expected him to turn on  _her_  this quickly.

“That’s not true!” she said, barely concealing the hurt in her voice. “I was with you the entire time!”

“A saboteur  _and_  a liar! I hate to say it, Myrah, but I’m ashamed to be your partner.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, unbidden. She refused to cry on camera, and even more so, she refused to cry in front of Vince. She didn’t want him to know that he’d managed to get to her.

“ _That’s enough!_ ” Adam’s voice rang out over the others. “I will not stand by while you badmouth Myrah, you slimy, self-centered, son-of-a….”

“Adam, man, settle down!” Derek, the voice of reason, tried to calm Adam before he got himself kicked off the show. Adam realized the cameras were all pointed at him, and he sat back down, glowering at Vince, who sat smirking back at him.

“Mind your temper, Adam. We wouldn’t want America to get the wrong impression of you, now would we?”

_I’m all about the mind game_ , Vince’s words rang through her mind. She knew he was playing a game, and thought she was, too. So why the hell did it hurt so bad when he turned it around on her?

She thought back to her visit to Coney Island, a side trip while visiting Peter to see one of his one-man off-off-off Broadway shows. She’d stopped at the booth of a fortune teller, unable to resist the lure, nostalgia and a touch of homesickness pulling her toward the old woman sitting behind a crystal ball with a deck of tarot cards.

_Would you like a reading, dear?_  She’d nodded, paying the woman and choosing her three cards. Just as Lulu had done years earlier, the old woman turned the cards over.  _Magician. Tower. Devil. There’s a man who will soon cross your path. A man who uses trickery to get what he wants. He leaves trails of destruction, broken hearts. Be careful not to make deals with the Devil, child, because he holds all the power._  The same cards Lulu had pulled for her.  _Magician. Tower. Devil._  Myrah thanked the woman and ran off, fearful of who this man might be. After tonight, she was pretty sure she’d found him.

“I took the liberty of fixing you a drink,” the Devil’s voice beside her, Myrah turned to look at Vince with suspicion.

It had been a couple of days since the bonfire, and they hadn’t spoken since. He’d tried to surreptitiously slip her notes while they passed in the halls like he’d done in the past, but she refused to acknowledge or accept them. She turned away from him when he tried to make eye contact. She knew it was probably petty, but she wanted him to feel as bad as he’d made her feel. She took the glass, sniffing it. Whiskey.

“Thanks,  _partner_. Not trying to poison me, are you? If you want a new partner so bad, there are easier ways to get one,” she said bitterly.

He scoffed at her, a frown tugging the corners of his lips down.

“Do you always have to be so dramatic? I’m just taking the opportunity to be chivalrous.”

“After the stunt you pulled during the group date, can you blame me for taking your words with a grain of salt?”

“Can’t you see it’s nothing personal? I only called you out in an effort to keep everyone honest.”

“You called me out because you were jealous.”

“There’s nothing for me to be jealous of. Fuck everyone in the house for all I care.”

“I haven’t fucked anyone but you, you selfish idiot,” she hissed, certain her face was turning red. She felt a small amount of satisfaction at the look of surprise and … dare she hope? … regret in his eyes.

“Even if I believed that, which I  _don’t_ ,” he said, “you can rest assured that I won’t let you drag me down for long. One way or another, I  _will_  get rid of you.”

“You know what, Vince? Go fuck yourself.”

She resisted the temptation to throw the drink in his face, choosing instead to slam it down on a nearby table and storm off. She spent the rest of the day fuming, happy when it was announced after elimination that she’d no longer be partnered with Vince. He looked pissed when it turned out Slater would be her new partner. Maybe this was her chance for a fresh start. She and Slater had good chemistry. Maybe he could help her forget about Vince.

She was out on the balcony again, looking out at the moon reflected on the ocean, taking refuge in the smell of the sea air and the sound of the waves lapping the shore. Being at the beach had always calmed her nerves, called to the sea as though she were part Siren. When she was younger and wanted to escape, she’d fancy herself Captain Ahab, sailing out on the open waters, chasing down the great white whale. As an adult, she still took refuse in the sounds of the sea.

When she heard footsteps behind her, she didn’t even bother turning around.

“What do  _you_  want?” she asked tersely.

“To talk.”

“I have nothing more to say, and I think you’ve already made your feelings perfectly clear.”

“Look, Myrah, I’m  _sorry_. I’ve told you over and over again this isn’t personal.”

“That’s rich.  _Everything_  is personal with you.”

“I was a jealous idiot, and I’m sorry. I talked to Slater. I know nothing happened.”

“Well, I’m glad you believed one of us, at least.”

“Will you just  _please_ look at me?”

“No.”

She was hurt, she was tired, and she was  _done_. No more mind games, no more deals with the Devil.

“Please…”

She heard his voice break, and her stupid heart lurched at the sound. She gave in, standing and turning to face him. He stepped around the outdoor couch to pull her close, burying his face in her hair.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he whispered into her hair, sincerity lacing his voice. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m not going to stop performing for the cameras, Myrah, but I never wanted to hurt you while they were off. When I saw you go off with Slater, I…”

“Shhhh. I know what it looked like, and I’m sorry, too.”

He pulled away from her, those damn eyes of his so intense she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She knew at that moment she’d forgive him for almost anything if he’d asked. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, then across her cheek before leaning in and kissing her lightly. This wasn’t a “surrendering to passion” kiss, but a languid, worshipful kiss that had her knees turning to jelly. She knew she couldn’t trust him, but it was hard to remember that in moments like this… when he was allowing himself to be open and vulnerable. 

And she was falling for it again.

_I’m all about the mind game … it’s human nature to zero in on another’s weakness and to strike when the moment’s right._  Wasn’t that what he’d said to her? Was  _he_  her weakness? As she gave in to him, slowly removing his clothes, she tried to push the thought from her mind. She kneeled in front of him, looking up at him as she pulled down his shorts, her nails lightly raking down his abdomen. For tonight, she’d make sure she’d give him just enough to leave him wanting more.

He threw his head back as she grasped his cock, licking the underside of his shaft, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking all of him in her mouth. He’d seemed eager for this when she’d started it that night on the beach, and it looked like he still was. His hands found their way to her hair as she cupped his balls with one hand, applying soft pressure, and held tightly to the back of his thigh with the other.

She hummed lightly while rolling her tongue, adding a bit of vibration for him as she licked and sucked his cock. He was thrusting his hips so that she had to open her throat to take him all in.  _Guess all that sword swallowing came in handy._   

He was chanting her name, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him. Whispers like the distant winds that blew in to disturb the air before a hurricane, heat pooling at her core at the knowledge that  _she_  was the one in control now.  _She_  held the power, and he was willingly handing it to her.

She moaned as he pulled her hair tighter, his fingers bunching as his thrusts grew more erratic. She hollowed her cheeks further, taking in every inch of him until he came, calling out her name into the vast emptiness of the night, the wind carrying the sound away.

She pulled back, standing upright again. He pulled her down to sit next to him on the couch, holding her as his breathing returned to normal. She reminded herself that this proved she could be  _his_  weakness, too. Moreover, today had shown her that she could make him jealous. Maybe she could use this partnership with Slater to her advantage after all.

 


	4. Deal With the Devil [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Myrah makes a deal with Vince that should get them both to the finale. But can she handle everything that comes with it? We learn more about Myrah’s past, her family, and why it’s so important for her to keep secrets. Meanwhile, she and Slater share a moment on the beach.

Myrah woke early the next morning, head pounding and heart heavy. She’d been up most of the night wondering what the hell she was going to do about Vince. After spending the night before with him on the balcony, and then again in her room, she found that she missed the solid warmth of his body next to her. She’d gone into this with the intention of keeping him away from Ivy and getting him on her side so she had a better chance of winning.

What she’d never anticipated was that she’d start thinking about him when she wasn’t with him, start craving those moments when the cameras weren’t on them and he was sweet, tender, and sometimes even vulnerable. She wondered which version of him was the real Vince. How much of this act had he pulled on Sienna? The two were still putting on the happy couple act when they guest judged her season.

After tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity, she finally huffed and decided to get out of bed. Maybe a walk along the beach before everyone else got up and started filling the place with noise and drama would help. As she descended to the living room, she saw Mackenzie pacing back and forth, nervously chewing her thumbnail. Myrah remembered Mackenzie asking her to talk off camera the night before, during elimination after being assigned as Vince’s partner.

“Mackenzie? What’s going on? Are you in trouble or something?”

Mackenzie sighed. “Just the opposite, actually. I won the audience vote last week and they’re letting me do a video call with a family member.”

“But that’s great news, right? Why are you being secretive about it?”

She rolled her eyes, but finally stopped pacing.

“You  _know_  how our competition can be. Would  _you_  want Ivy or Vince hearing anything about your family?”

Myrah’s blood ran cold, her heart beginning to pound. The idea that it was possible for  _anyone_  in the house to find out anything about her family … or what was left of her family … was terrifying. She’d worked so hard to put that behind her, to forge a new life for herself after the fire.

_“Myrah you know I can’t stay here.” Peter put his hands on her shoulders, the look on his face begging for her understanding. His few possessions were in a small trunk in front of Lulu’s trailer, where they’d been staying since the fire. Since their dad… “You know it’s only a matter of time before everything gets tied back to me.”_

_“But where will you go?”_

_“New York. I’ll make my fortune there. Why don’t you come with me?”_

_Tears sprang to her eyes. She knew she couldn’t go with him. She was a circus act, the daughter of a sideshow performer. This was the only life she knew. And now … everything was gone, all her costumes, props, her swords, everything, leaving her with no way to survive except to keep seducing the tourists._

_“I…I can’t. What would I do? I don’t know how to survive out there. All I’ve ever done is perform or run cons.”_

_“Everything is a con, Myrah. Everything. The shit dad made us do? We can do it anywhere. We don’t need to live like this anymore.”_

_She’d never considered leaving this life behind, the possibility of not traveling half the year and then living in a small, run-down trailer in Gibtown. But Peter had. He’d been talking about leaving for years, getting out from under their dad’s thumb, away from Florida. Especially when he was hitting the booze too hard, which often led to him hitting her and Peter. Peter protected her as best he could, until the one night he couldn’t…_

“Myrah?”

“Yeah…I see your point.”

“They’ll see the footage eventually, but until then… I’m gonna call my little sister Natalie, and you’re the only one I trust to be there.”

“Oh. Yeah…uh…I just…it’s my first Challenge with Slater as my partner tonight, so I think it’s best if I just get my head in the game.”

“Oh. Of course! I … I understand.”

Mackenzie wasn’t doing a good job of disguising the hurt in her voice, but Myrah knew she’d get over it pretty quickly. She continued on to the beach, where she walked for a while, the sand shifting below her feet, still cool and damp with morning dew. The wind sang with the calling of shorebirds seeking out bait and fish to steal from the fishermen along the piers, and the waves crashing on the shore.

_Storm’s comin’_. Her dad had taught her to identify early signs of a storm. It was important to understand how quickly the weather could change when you were in the ocean, and the change in weather brought larger and more powerful waves and riptides.  _Keep out of the water, girl. You’ll get sucked under and drown._

Vince’s face floated before her, a mixture of stormy seas and calm, clear water. Their relationship, if she could even call it that, was so confusing, so complicated. She sat down in the damp sand, not caring about how it plastered itself to her. She drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she stared out at the ocean as though it somehow held some answers for her.

_“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Vince was murmuring in her ear as they sat together on the outdoor couch the evening before. It would be so easy to just give in, to allow his honeyed words to tear down those walls she’d been building up her whole life. “You’ve got such a talented mouth.”_

_She’d nearly melted into a puddle at the way his voice dropped, at the way his lips grazed the shell of her ear. As he nuzzled her, she couldn’t help but reach over to him, her hand going behind his neck, fingers raking through his curls as she turned her face toward his, their lips meeting in a heated kiss._

_“Back to my room,” she’d said. Vince had complied, his hand resting on her lower back the whole way. She’d pulled him inside the room and they’d finished what they’d started out on the balcony, dizzy with desire, her head filled with need for him. As his lips skimmed down her abdomen, she wasn’t thinking about his earlier outbursts. She wasn’t thinking about anything but the feel of his tongue as it ran through her folds, two fingers sliding inside her, while she grabbed handfuls of his hair._

_“You always taste amazing, Myrah. So fucking sweet.”_

_She threw her head back, moaning as his fingers and tongue continued to edge her closer to release. As she arched into him, he moaned, the vibrations increasing her pleasure. She began to writhe against him, falling over the edge crying out his name. He climbed over her, capturing her in a searing kiss, allowing her to taste herself on his lips. She whispered his name as he lifted her leg to rest it on his shoulder, lining himself up with her entrance, then slowly entered her, stretching her deliciously._

_“Vince … Oh my god, Vince.”_

_“Myrah…”_

_Her fingers dug into the sheets as he grabbed her wrists, pulling them over her head and pinning her. She sucked in a breath, the act of surrendering to him so completely exciting her in ways she hadn’t expected._

_“Is this okay?”_

_She nodded, words escaping her. Together they reached exquisite highs, muffing their cries against each others’ skin, whispering soft words as they held each other afterwards. She couldn’t get over how right it felt to be in his arms, for him to pull her to him and hold her as though she were something precious to be treasured._

She sighed as she stared out at the water, the sun slowly rising over the crashing waves. After he’d left to go back to his room, she’d slept fitfully, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. With the clear light of morning upon her, she tried to tell herself that she was the one playing the game.  _She_  was the one still in control.

While she was watching, she saw a figure on the horizon. As it came closer to the shore, she saw it was Slater, droplets of water running down his body making him glisten in the rays of the rising sun. He cut through the waves, Neptune himself on his wooden chariot, riding toward her surrounded by a golden glow. He grinned at her as he came ashore, planting his board upright before dropping to the sand by her side.

“You’re up early,” she said, never taking her eyes off the water.

“Wanted to catch some waves before Carson decided to have us guess the number of blue jellybeans in a jar.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Oooh, maybe we have to put M&M’s in alphabetical order.”

It was his turn to chuckle, his eyes shining as he leaned in closer to her, his shoulder now touching hers.

“Maybe he’ll have us do one of those carnival games like ring toss, or where they guess our collective weight or something.”

“I’ll bet it’s a hula hoop contest.”

They laughed easily together, Myrah nudging him with her shoulder as they sat watching the waves crash on the sand.

_“A showmance?”  She’d been surprised when Vince brought it up. It didn’t seem like something he’d so readily agree to. “Are you sure?”_

_“Think about it. It’s perfect. America falls in love with the happy couple and they keep the villain in for the drama. We’re guaranteed to end up at the top together.”_

_The idea made her feel uneasy, but she knew he was right. “And you’d be okay with that? With me faking all that for the cameras?”_

_He sighed as he looked off into the distance, brows furrowed. The look that passed over his face in that moment told her so much more than his words could._

_“I won’t lie to you. I’m not going to enjoy it. But I’ve never enjoyed what I have to fake for the cameras.”_

_“If you’re really okay with it… I don’t want to screw anything up between us any more than we already have.”_

_“I’m okay with it. And Slater will never see it coming.”_

She didn’t want to hurt Slater. But she knew this was how the game was played, and it was the best chance the three of them had of ending up in the finale. It was how she’d won America’s hearts last season, by convincing Adam she liked him, so much that he’d been willing to quit the show for her.

Vince was right, America would love the idea of The Girl Next Door and Slater sparking up a romance, and they’d certainly keep Vince on as the villain.

_“You know I’m going to have to keep being an ass while the cameras are on, right?”_

_He was lightly stroking a finger down her cheek, his gaze tender and laced with concern. She leaned forward to kiss him, an act of reassurance meant for both of them._

_“I know.”_

_“It’s for the cameras, Myrah. I really like you. Maybe more than I should. Just … remember it’s for the cameras.”_

_She’d nodded, relishing his warmth, not wanting to think about the man in front of the camera, the Devil Lulu warned her about, the man who ran hot and cold. She wanted to think about_ this _man, the Vince who’d opened up to her, even after he’d told her that everyone let him down._

She shook off the memory of the night before, turning to Slater who was seated next to her, studying her silently.

“How do you feel about being my partner?”

His eyebrows shot up at the question, but he looked thoughtful before answering.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you, and what better way than by being on your team?”

She smiled at the sincerity in his voice. She knew after she’d snuck off with him during the group date that she’d like him. It sounded like he felt the same, which gave her hope that he’d agree to her proposal.

“How would you feel about taking that partner thing a bit further? What would you say to the idea of a showmance?”

He grinned widely at her, and she was struck again by how amazing he looked like this, the early morning sun reflecting off the droplets of water slowly drying on his skin, lean muscle sculpted into his large imposing frame, sun-kissed skin almost glowing.

“ _Only_  a showmance? I guess we can start there,” he responded, winking at her rakishly.

She laughed, happy he’d agreed. She’d be sure to let Vince know before their group challenge that night. Bumping his shoulder with her own, she smiled back at him.

“It’ll be nice getting to know you better, partner.”

He looked at her for a moment, studying her face. Before she could register what was happening, he’d pulled her toward him, kissing her. He glided his tongue across her bottom lip, a low moan escaping her as he did. Her body responded to him almost instinctively, reacting to his touch, his lips, before she realized  that it felt  _good_ , but it didn’t feel  _right._  She thought about how it felt with Vince when she’d kissed  _him_. With him, it  _always_  felt right, even when she knew it was wrong. She broke the kiss, pulling away from him.

“I think I’m going to have a good time getting to know you, too,  _partner_ ,” he responded.

“I’ll see you later, surfer boy.”

Myrah stood, brushing the sand off before walking back to the house. She needed to find Vince and pull him aside before the producers showed up with the cameras trying to manufacture more drama.

She was happy to find Mackenzie was no longer pacing in the living room, providing her a clear path back up the stairs toward the bedrooms. Once Heath had been sent to the jury house Vince had been fortunate enough to have his own room, so she knew they wouldn’t be disturbed. She could hear him moving around after she’d knocked, which meant she likely woke him up.

When the door yanked open, she was met with a sight she’d never seen before. His curls were wild, sticking out everywhere and slightly frizzy where he’d lain on them. His eyes were half closed, and he was shirtless, wearing only a pair of linen pajama pants. He looked incredible. She had to remind herself why she was here, and it wasn’t to stare at his sculpted chest and abs, or that incredible v-line that dipped into the pants that rode low on his hips.

“You’re staring.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, blushing. She was, and she knew it, but it was embarrassing to be caught. He smirked at her, reaching out to pull her into the room. She closed the door and leaned back against it, waiting for him to respond.

“You are, but that’s okay. I like it when you stare.”

He was walking toward her, pinning her in place with the look in his eyes. He pressed against her, his hand kneading her ample backside, lifting and holding her against the door as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She whimpered when he thrust his hips against her, his desire for her evident through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. She bit down on his bottom lip, teeth grazing it as she pulled back. He kissed her soundly, taking her breath away. They pulled at each others’ clothes, the reason she’d originally come to his room forgotten as they gave in to their shared desires.

Later, curled up against him with her head resting on his chest as his fingertips lazily traced patterns onto her skin, she told him about her conversation with Slater. He seemed pleased, murmuring to her about what they’d do when they won, about the places he wanted to take her. She knew better than to believe any of it. Many a man had made her promises in the past and not one had ever meant it. Vince didn’t strike her as the exception to that. After all, she’d made a deal with the Devil, the very thing Lulu had warned her away from.

_“A cunning man with many tricks…Take care not to let the two of you become bound to one another…he’ll try to steal your soul.”_

But as Lulu’s warning played in her head, the Devil she was supposed to fear held her tightly in his arms, taking care to make her feel safe, warm, and cared for. She hadn’t felt that way for a long, long time, making her think  _maybe_  the Devil wasn’t so bad after all. _Maybe._ But maybe it was all an act, and she was a fool to let her guard down around him.


	5. Shot Through the Heart [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Myrah and Slater are partnered up for the Group Challenge, but will Myrah end up with more than she bargained for with Slater? He plays dirty, but he plays to win, which means Vince ends up in the Bottom Four.

Myrah was sitting in the limousine that was carrying the cast to their group Challenge. The only thing Carson had allowed Jen and Omar to tell them was that it was going to be at an “undisclosed location” somewhere in Downtown Miami. That could mean anything from another dance contest to a hot dog eating contest. She’d honestly not put either past him. When they finally arrived at their destination, they were ushered into a nondescript concrete building painted in bright colors. Inside, the building was set up like an arena, fog machines creating a thick haze in the air, walls painted in neon colors and lit with blacklights.

“Welcome to Miami’s most cutting-edge laser tag arena, and the site of tonight’s thrilling Challenge!”

Carson’s “television” voice boomed throughout the room, met with several groans of disappointment. Myrah wasn’t thrilled about this particular challenge either. She’d never played laser tag and wasn’t sure how she’d do. Kiana and Slater certainly had no such qualms.

“This. Is. My.  _Jam_ ,” squealed Kiana, the excitement evident in her voice.

Beside her, she could feel how eager Slater was to get out there and start shooting things. Bianca was closely inspecting the area, running her fingers along one of the plastic- and styrofoam-covered walls in disgust in much the way Myrah remembered seeing Faye Dunaway do in  _Mommy Dearest_.

“Are we sure this place is up to health codes?” she asked.

“More importantly,” Vince said, his voice dripping with disdain, “what does a  _children’s_  game have to do with being America’s Most Eligible?”

“ _That_  is an  _excellent_  question,” Carson answered. “This Challenge was designed to test a very crucial set of skills.”

Carson paused dramatically, narrowing his eyes as he looked over the group. Myrah made eye contact with Mackenzie, both women rolling their eyes as they waited for him to continue.

“Your ability to defend your partner against imminent danger!”

“Oh my god,” Myrah whispered under her breath. Slater nudged her with his elbow, chuckling as Carson leveled a look at her. She knew she should be quiet, but this was such a stupid challenge. “Carson, this is your weirdest idea yet. And that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, this body was made for photoshoots,” Bianca complained.

“This  _is_  pretty out there, Carson,” Eden added, other murmuring their agreement.

“C’mon, guys! You can’t judge this Challenge before we even give it a shot,” Slater said, causing Myrah to look at him quizzically. She knew he was excited to play laser tag, but he had to know what a waste of time this activity was. She tried to push aside her reservations as she listened to Carson go over the Challenge rules. As they were ushered into the waiting room, Adam gave her an encouraging smile.

“May the best shot win,” he said.

“Indeed, I’m not going to hold back just because we  _used_  to be teammates,” Vince responded, leveling her with a cold stare. He shouldered past her, dropping his voice lower. “You can run in here, Myrah…but you can’t hide.”

“Pretty sure that’s exactly what the walls are for,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

_It’s for the cameras, Myrah,_  she reminded herself of his words. _It’s just for the cameras._

As the arena staff outfitted them with vests and guns, Slater was gushing about how excited he was for this. She turned to him with a frown. She knew she had to play up the drama, recalling the conversation she’d had with Vince earlier that day.

_“Play up the showmance angle with Slater. Do whatever you need to do to get him to believe that you’re on his side. And Myrah,” he’d said, tracing a finger down her torso, down the valley between her breasts, “I’m going to be pretty awful to you. Use that. Tell Slater what a bastard I am. If you’re both against me, it’ll make it easier to become the villain of the season.”_

“Slater, I feel like you should know that we might be in for some tough competition. Vince has had it out for me since day one, and as long as you’re my partner, he won’t go easy on you, either.”

Slater, ever the laid-back surfer, grinned easily. “Just let Vince worry about Vince. As long as we have fun, how bad can a challenge this cool be?”

“Everyone has ten seconds to choose their positions!” Carson called out, interrupting their conversation.

She and Slater made their way to some free-standing walls that had good cover. In the dim lights of the arena, they could barely make out the movements of the other contestants.

“I’m amazed they can get any footage in here at all,” she whispered to him.

“Three…Two…One…Go!” came Carson’s voice, echoing through the arena.

On his word, chaos erupted. Myrah saw red and green laser beams flashing across the walls, heard the shouts of the other contestants, the electronic pulsing of the vests of those who’d been hit. She and Slater managed to avoid most of the blasts until she saw Mackenzie and Eden descending on their hiding spot. Myrah managed to dodge Mackenzie’s fire, but Slater ended up trapped between the two of them.

“Slater, look out!!” she shouted.

But he didn’t even look worried. He calmly grabbed Eden by the shoulder and ducked behind her, using her as a human shield, Mackenzie’s shot hitting Eden instead.

“Not cool, Slater!” Eden shouted.

“What are you  _doing_?” Myrah asked, shocked at his behavior.

He smirked wolfishly, the neon playing across his face in the haze, turning his skin shades of blue and purple, the shadows making him look far more sinister than she could have ever anticipated.

“I’m winning,” he replied.

She watched, dumbfounded, as he spun around a corner, guns blazing. She could hear the beeps coming from various areas of the arena as he hit target after target. His casual demeanor as he played dirty gave her the creeps. She recognized that the aim of these Challenges was to win, but she wasn’t prepared for him to be so … ruthless … so cold. It seemed so out of character for him, so unexpected.

_“It’s never the ones you expect, is it?”_

_Myrah was sitting in the bedroom of her friend and fellow trapeze artist Loretta, a member of the Clarke dynasty, getting her latest injuries tended to. Loretta’s family had taken a liking to Myrah, bringing her in as a performer, and taught her the trade after her mama had left the family behind. She and Loretta had become fast friends as they went through trapeze training together, both celebrating their victories and commiserating with each other every time they fell into the safety net._

_“No, it isn’t. It doesn’t matter. Nobody would believe me, anyway,”_

_Loretta had become her personal nurse, the one person she could trust with this secret. Myrah knew she would never tell a soul, that she wouldn’t judge her for not leaving._

_“Everyone who knows your dad thinks he’s really laid back. All they see is a broken old man who used to be a top performer until his wife ran off with another man. They don’t see the monster you have to live with, Myrah.”_

_“I know.”_

_Loretta tutted at her as she applied an alcohol swab to the cut on her lip. Myrah flinched away, the sting of it catching her by surprise, just like it did every time._

_“He usually doesn’t go for the face. What happened this time?”_

_“He’s drinking more than usual these days,” she answered simply, not telling the whole truth. It was just easier to keep those parts to herself._

_“Where’s Peter?”_

_“Not here.”_

_“You know you can just stay with us, right? I’m worried about you being there alone with him.”_

_“It’s fine, Retta. A little makeup and nobody will ever know, right?”_

_Loretta looked worried but didn’t press her, for which Myrah was grateful. It was easier that way._

Myrah shook the memory off, reminding herself that all of that was behind her. She needed to get her head back in the game. Scanning for anyone in the open, she saw Derek and Kiana rounding a corner toward her. Before they could spot her, she shot at them. Kiana ducked, avoiding her shot, but she managed to get a hit on Derek.

“Nice shot,” Derek said with a smile.

“I’m just getting started,” she answered, grinning back at him.

Just then, Slater put his hand on her shoulder. She startled, flinching before spinning to see who was behind her. It was Slater, eyes darting around the room. He leaned in, lips grazing her ear.

“We’d better move before anyone pins us down here.”

“Right behind you.”

She followed Slater as he sprinted across the room, the two of them dodging laser beams and the various styrofoam obstacles in their way. She looked over to the left when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She saw Mackenzie run out of a corridor, aiming straight for her. Myrah froze in a moment of panic, trying to decide which direction to run. As she did, she saw that Slater ran past Mackenzie, sticking his foot out to trip her. At Mackenzie’s objection, Slater plastered on a fake smile.

“Gotta watch your step in this place!”

Myrah was shocked by his behavior. He didn’t seem like the cutthroat type, but here she was watching him trip people and using others as shields. She ducked behind a stack of crates, catching her breath and contemplating whether she’d made the right decision to trust Slater. When she decided to peek her head out to see what was happening, a gun was aimed right at her.  _Vince._

“ _There_  you are,” he said, wearing that smug smirk that she always wanted to slap off his face. She wasn’t about to let him get a shot in. She ducked back behind her cover just as Vince made his shot, the laser hitting the wall behind her back.

“Ohhhh, too slow, hotshot,” she said, smirking right back at him.

He glared at her. “The game’s not over yet. You can’t hide forever, Myrah.”

“All’s fair in love and laser tag!” she shouted, running behind another wall.

The rest of the Challenge was total chaos. She scored some points, but took some hits, too. In the glow of the blacklights and neon, she saw Kiana pinning Mackenzie down, rapidly firing on her. To the other side, Ivy was aiming for Slater. As she’d seen him do before, he dodged out of the way, leaving Ivy’s shot to hit Adam instead. In the corner, Bianca was hiding, muttering to herself about not being dressed for this. Myrah decided she could score some easy points on Bianca.

“Bianca, over here! This spot’s got the best cover in the room!”

Bianca beamed at her, running toward her.

“You are a lifesaver! I’ve been stuck there…”

Her vest made a buzzing noise as Myrah shot her point blank.

“Oh, come  _on._ ”

“Sorry, but here on Team Myrah, we play to win.”

Carson’s voice cut through the noise of the arena before Bianca could reply.

“Aaaaand time’s up!”

A whistle sounded, shrilly cutting through the noise of the arena. Everyone stepped out from behind various pieces of cover, heading back to Carson, out of breath. Carson announced that she and Slater had won the Challenge, causing Slater to shoot her a smug smile. She looked away from him quickly, unsure how to feel about how he’d chosen to play the game. Carson was announcing the Bottom Four, Myrah’s eyes going wide when she heard the names.

“Ivy, Adam, Vince, and Mackenzie…”

“What??”

“If we got scored separately, this never would have happened!” Mackenzie was angrily glaring at Vince.

“I don’t want Vince to go home!”

She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but her brain wasn’t as fast as her mouth. Mackenzie and Vince were both staring at her in shock.  _Nice going, Myrah._  Mackenzie was glaring daggers at her.

“You don’t?” she asked.

“You  _don’t_?” echoed Vince, seemingly equally shocked. She’d deviated from their plan.

“I … I mean… eventually, yeah … but not … yet?”

_Holy shit, Myrah, shut UP. You’re making it worse._

“Sorry, everyone, but that’s for the Elimination Ceremony to decide! Until then, the Bottom Four must remain in suspense!”

Myrha had never been so happy to hear Carson’s voice before. She was thankful he’d broken the awkwardness, but now everyone was miserable about the Bottom Four decision. As the camera crew began pulling up wires and packing up their equipment, Slater looked around smugly.

“If you didn’t want to be up for Elimination, maybe you should’ve tried harder.”

Everyone glared at him, but he only grinned back.  _What have I gotten myself into?_

Later that night, back at the mansion, she had moved out to the balcony, staring out at the ocean. She was thinking over the course of the day, thinking about the Challenge, about Slater’s actions, about how much Vince’s words stung. The wind carried with it the smell of the sea salt as she sat there, transfixed by the waves gently lapping at the shoreline. She wondered if Slater was just intense about laser tag, or if this was a glimpse of his true personality. She hoped she could trust him.

Her life had been so different since being pulled into this show last season. She’d never intended to be put into a position where she was so closely scrutinized. Not anymore, anyway. Not since she’d left the circus and sideshow behind.

_“You can keep traveling with us!”_

_Loretta was in tears, bargaining with her to stay. But she’d already refused Lulu, and she knew this wasn’t her place anymore. She’d never feel right with all those people staring at her, accusation in their eyes. She wasn’t the only one who’d lost everything in the fire._

_“I can’t stay here. You know I can’t. I thought I could, but … I’m not strong enough on my own, Retta. I should’ve left with Peter.”_

_Anger flashed across Loretta’s face._

_“He should be the one ashamed to show his face around here, not you.”_

_“It’s too late for that. I’m sorry, but … I have to go. I’m so, so sorry. I never wanted…”_

_A sob escaped, her, the pain and fear she’d been pushing down far too long bubbling to the surface. She didn’t want to leave the only place she’d ever known as ‘home’ any more than Loretta wanted her to, but she just couldn’t face the guilt anymore either. No, Peter had been right. She could con people anywhere, and she didn’t need to be here to do it._

She wondered what Peter was doing now. She hadn’t seen him since New York, and the last time she heard from him before they started shooting this season, he was on his way to Monaco for some “job” he’d been hired for. She hoped he was okay. He was always skirting the edge, willing to go a little further than he should.

“Are you going to miss me if I get voted out?”

She yelped, startled out of her thoughts by a low voice in her ear. Her heart was hammering in her chest like a drum, she was gasping for air, as she looked behind her, wild-eyed. Concern laced his features as he quickly came around to her side of the seat. Sitting beside her, he reached out to lightly graze her cheek moving his hand down to rest on her chest.

“Sorry gorgeous, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His voice was a low whisper, soothing. She tried to laugh it off, embarrassed that he’d seen her like that.

“No, it’s okay, I was just so lost in thought I didn’t hear you come out here. Sorry for … all that.”

“You okay? That was some show you and your …  _partner_  put on today.”

He’d said the word partner with such disdain that she couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, sorry about Billy the Kid,” she laughed. “I had no idea he had it in him.”

“So… are we gonna talk about your little outburst earlier? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to hear you aren’t tired of me yet, but it was … ”

She felt her face heat up, thankful for the darkness that was hiding the inevitable blush.

“It was indiscreet.”

“Yeah.”

“It just … happened. And I’m not going to apologize for it, because I meant every word. I’m  _not_  ready for you to go home yet. It’s selfish, but I want to keep you here as long as I can.”

She searched his face for a reaction, not sure what she was going to find. He rested his forehead against hers, his intense gaze never wavering, until he answered in a low growl.

“I like it when you’re selfish.”

He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her lips toward his. His kiss was possessive, claiming her as his, and she clung tightly to him, a life preserver in the stormy sea. His hands wandered down her body, pausing at her hip before reaching back up to the hem of her shirt, tugging it gently upwards. She helped him pull it off, gasping when his lips met her newly exposed skin. His tongue skirted the lacy edge of her bra, his thumbs rubbing at her nipples through the fabric. She pulled at his t-shirt, needing to touch him. He paused, pulling back long enough to help her remove it, his eyes, darkened from their usual bright blue to the color of midnight, roving her body with barely concealed desire.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he gently pressed her back down to the couch. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

_That makes two of us_ , she thought, as he pulled the cups of her bra down to bare her breasts to him. He lowered his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth, goosebumps erupting on her skin as his tongue and teeth sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, pooling in her core. The roughness of his facial hair against her skin combined with the softness of his lips, his long fingers stroking down her hip, her thigh, cause a rush of slick wetness to dampen her thighs. She reached down the front of her shorts, seeking some release when he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Not yet,” he said. “Not until I give you permission.”

She whimpered at his words, certain she was going combust if he didn’t touch her soon. She bucked her hips up against him, feeling his obvious arousal, but he pushed her hips back down. Pulling away from her to stand up, he slowly unbuttoned her shorts, pulling them and her panties off in one motion. She could feel her wetness coating her inner thighs and was certain he could see it. His hands grazed her body as he kneeled in the space between her thighs, fingertips ghosting down her ribcage, down to her hips, up her inner thighs until he reached the apex.

“You’re so wet,” he said reverentially, fingertips parting her folds, opening her up to him.

She threw her head back at his touch, parting her thighs wider for him. His thumb grazed her clit and she cried out his name, eager for release.

“What’s the hurry?” He asked, pulled away again. “If this is my last night in the house, I want to take my time with you.”

His words crashed around her like she’d been splashed with ice water, the reality that he might be leaving tomorrow something she’d avoided thinking about. Her emotions suddenly hit her like a wave, tears springing to her eyes. If this was his last night in the house, their last night together, she wanted this to be a night they remembered.

“I’m all yours,” she whispered, trying not to think too hard about her choice of words.

He looked at her for a minute, his face unreadable, before crashing his lips to hers again, more intense than before. She reciprocated, pouring everything she had into it, her hands roaming the skin on his chest and down his stomach, feeling the way his muscles twitched at her touch. She palmed him through his shorts, his hard length tenting the light fabric. She pulled away from the kiss.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

He grinned at her, stripping the rest of the way down before taking up his spot between her thighs again. This time, he sat back on his heels, staring down at her.

“Touch yourself, Myrah. I want to watch you.”

She cupped her breast with one hand, fingers squeezing the nipple as the other hand dipped into her folds, fingers swirling slowly around her clit. Her eyes fluttered closed as she responded to her own touch, getting lost in the sensation.

“Eyes open.”

She complied, looking at him to see he had his cock in his hand, stroking himself in time to her movements. The sight turned her on more than she’d expected, and between that, his voice telling her what to do, and her own ministrations, she came undone crying out his name. He took her hand in his, sucking her fingers into his mouth, his tongue cleaning them off.

“You taste so fucking good.”

He positioned himself over her, his tip teasing her entrance. He brought his lips to hers, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She moaned as he eased the head of his cock inside her and then withdrew it again.

“Vince, please,” she whimpered.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Tell me you’re mine, Myrah. I want to hear you say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“I’m yours.”

He entered her fully, with one swift thrust, both of them crying out at the sensation. Myrah had been with her fair share of men, but nothing had ever compared to this before. It was as though they were made to fit each other. She bucked her hips to meet him, wrapping her legs around him as he entered her at just the right angle to hit her sweet spot over and over. It could have lasted minutes or hours. The passing of time no longer held meaning for her. All she knew, all she could sense, was him. The way he felt inside her, the way his beard felt against her skin when he was kissing her neck, the way he called out her name like she was a beacon and he a man lost at sea. She came undone with another cry and he followed soon after, her name on his lips.

As they held each other, each lost in their own thoughts, she couldn’t help but replay his words in her mind.  _“Tell me you’re mine.”_ Did he  _want_  her to be his? Did  _she_  want that? Or was that all just said in the heat of the moment? What was going to happen if he had to go to the jury house after tomorrow’s Elimination Ceremony? She started tearing up again at the idea. Vince noticed, kissing her temple and pulling her closer to him.

“Sorry, I’m being stupid. I just… I don’t want you to go yet.”

His strong arms held her tightly as he whispered reassurances.

“I’m here now, and that’s all the matters. And tomorrow…I’ll do everything in my power to stay.”

She nodded, knowing that neither of them could predict what would happen tomorrow. But he was right. Right here, right now, he was here and they were together. She took comfort in his arms, in nestling against his solid body, in the warmth radiating from him. She drifted off, knowing he’d wake her before dawn so they could each go to their separate rooms, content in the feeling of falling asleep in his arms.


	6. Dance with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s prom night! Will Vince save the last dance for Myrah, or will she end up dancing with herself? No amount of Molly Ringwald movies could have prepared her for what prom would be like with Carson running the show, but she needs to think hard about her decisions, or she might end up in the fire.

“Let’s talk about the laser tag Challenge. It could’ve played out very differently if you were still working with Vince. But you and Slater pulled off a pretty incredible win. What do you think of him as a partner so far?”

Myrah wince at Jen’s question. She didn’t like what Jen was trying to imply about Vince and refused to badmouth him during a confessional. As for Slater…

“I think he needs to play by the rules. He’s one slip away from getting us  _both_  in trouble. I just hope he can clean up his act before the next Challenge.”

“It seems Slater’s taken a lot of people by surprise It’ll be interesting to see how he acts at the upcoming prom Date.”

“That’s for sure,” Myrah muttered. Reminding herself that she was supposed to be filming a Confessional, she put on her best Flirt persona. “Personally, I’m excited for the  _adults-only_ afterparty. If I’ve gotta keep it G-rated around the kids all night, I’m letting my freak flag fly as soon as we’re back in the mansion!”

Jen barely acknowledged her, give her a slight nod before looking back down at her clipboard.

“Mhmm. Now Myrah, this week’s elimination is bound to be a game-changer, with Adam, Mackenzie, Ivy, and Vince on the chopping block. How are  _you_ feeling about saying goodbye to two more contestants?”

The question hit her hard. She really wasn’t ready to let Vince go yet, but Mackenzie was her friend, and Adam had quit last season for her. She wasn’t sure how to answer honestly without tipping her hand about Vince, and she knew he didn’t want their relationship on camera. It would ruin the plan.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous,” she answered honestly. “It’s crazy that some of the strongest competitors will go home this early in the game. I can only hope it won’t be my friends.”

She knew that should appease everyone and make her look good without having to say anything negative about Vince. Jen smiled approvingly before sinking into a chair, exhaustion showing on her face. Myrah let her vent about Carson for a while before running off to wardrobe. Fatima had a real show-stopper ready for her that Wrenn had assisted with as well. They’d chosen a perfect dress, a beaded lilac number that looked like it was tailor-made for her that would have given any prom queen a run for their money.

She hadn’t said so to anyone, but Myrah was secretly a bit excited about this Group Date. She’d never had a prom. Like most circus kids, she was homeschooled, working with the tutor that traveled with them. Circus life meant anywhere from 4-6 months on the road, traveling from one backwoods town to the next. School dances weren’t a thing that happened when you lived that life. Prom, football games, all the “teenager” things she’d seen in movies but never got to do…she sometimes regretted not having experienced those. It was rare for a circus kid to get to do anything like that. Hell, it was rare for them to even get to leave the business.

She remembered Joaquin, the boy she’d lost her virginity to. He did trick riding, standing on the back of a horse while juggling, while skipping rope, and while jumping through hoops. He had long hair and a jagged scar that ran down one arm, and he always smelled a bit like the stables, and she used to think she would marry him someday. He wanted more than the traveling life could offer. He wanted to go to college. Instead, he got a head injury and a broken collarbone during practice when the horse he was riding got spooked and bucked, causing him to miss a landing. He ended up working as a clown, his riding days over. He was never the same after that. He never got out. But she did. She’d made it out and she was going to make the most of it.

As the limousine carried them to the hotel across town, she couldn’t help but wonder how tonight would play out on camera. Vince hadn’t had any trouble showing her affection before encouraging her to have a showmance with Slater, but how would he act now? She was sat between him and Slater, wishing for all the world that she could touch him, hold his hand,  _something_  to get some reassurance from him that tonight was going to be okay. Slater leaned in, speaking in a hushed voice.

“You ready for the big dance,  _partner_?”

She flinched slightly as he put his hand on her knee, sliding it lightly up to the middle of her thigh. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vince’s jaw tighten, but he still said nothing. She moved closer to Slater, speaking low enough that only he could hear.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch me without my permission,  _partner_.”

He flashed his best frat boy grin, lifting his hand to casually sling it across the top of the seat behind her back. He started up a conversation with Bianca to the other side of him, leaving her to steal a look at Vince. He wasn’t looking back at her so she nudged him with her shoulder, sneaking her hand between them to wrap one of her fingers around his. He spared her a glance, and half a smile before glancing away, responding to a question from Ivy.

It wasn’t much, but it was all she needed.

When they arrived at the hotel, they were ushered inside. Once in the ballroom, they were greeted with upbeat music, colorful lights shimmering onto the dance floor, and an applauding crowd of teenagers. Myrah couldn’t help but marvel at it all. It was like every Molly Ringwald fantasy she’d ever had come to life. Carson called for them all to gather around so he could make introductions.

“Excellent!” Carson’s voice boomed. “Now I have to ask the real question of the night … Who’s ready to get the party started?”

“We are!” Myrah shouted.

Everyone scattered across the ballroom, breaking into small groups. Myrah knew she needed to mingle among everyone to be sure she got a lot of camera time. Looking around, she spotted Derek, Slater, and Bianca standing by the DJ booth. It looked like they were trying to get the DJ’s attention.  _Hopefully to do something about this awful music_ , she thought to herself.

“What’s going on, guys?”

Slater’s eyes roved up and down her body before he answered. “Turns out, Carson hand-selected the playlist for the dance. Which is why the music sucks so far.”

“I’ve been to more parties than all of you combined and I’m telling you, something dancey and loud is always a crowd-pleaser,” Bianca said.

Derek disagreed. “I dunno. These are high school kids just hanging out. Something poppy and chill would really fit the mood.”

Slater rolled his eyes. “Full offense, but you guys are lame. Everyone’s here with their girlfriends and boyfriends,” he said, making eye contact with Myrah. “Give them something  _slow_  and  _romantic._ ”

“I guess you’re the tie-breaker,” Derek said. “What song should we request?”

Myrah hadn’t watched a hundred thousand 80s movies set during prom for nothing. “Let’s go with something romantic!”

The DJ cut to another song, and Slater grinned at her.

“Nice choice, Myrah. Trust me, this is  _exactly_  what this prom thing needed.”

Sure enough, on the dance floor, everyone was pairing up and getting closer than before.  _Everyone._  Including Ivy and Vince. She felt like someone had dropped a lead weight in her stomach. They weren’t dancing right now, but they were standing awfully close, and Ivy was laughing a little too hard at whatever Vince was saying. They were both in front of the cameras when she made her way over to them to find out what the hell they were talking about.

“Something tells me you were the most beautiful prom queen this side of the Mississippi,” Vince said. His words cut deep, like a knife through her heart. Tears pricked at her eyes but she wasn’t going to let this get to her.  _It’s for the cameras, Myrah. It’s only for the cameras._

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” came Ivy’s faux-modest reply.

She trailed off when she saw Myrah approaching them. Vince followed her gaze and looked at Myrah appreciatively, as though he hadn’t already seen her in the limousine on the ride over.

“Well, doesn’t Myrah here look like a million bucks?”

Ivy gave her a once-over, her smile strained. Myrah inwardly smirked. Ivy was still jealous of her.

“Yes, I guess she does,” she said, before promptly turning back to Vince, eyes fixed on the stage in front of her. “As I was saying… the moment they put that crown on my head was better than  _any_  pageant win I’d ever had.”

Vince grinned. “I know the feeling well. Having my classmates acknowledge my worth was truly gratifying. I almost wish I could’ve been prom king forever.”

_Ah._ So they’d both been prom royalty. Another thing they had in common that she … didn’t. Myrah was starting to think she was the only one here who’d never been to a prom before. She couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. Ivy giggled, slapping Vince’s arm playfully.

“Oh stop,” she said, making sure Myrah was watching the flirtatious interaction. “You’ve become much more than that.”

Myrah had to refrain from pulling her away from him by her badly dyed hair.

“I hate to interrupt, but,” she stopped herself, taking a deep breath before continuing. Vince was eyeing her warily, worried about what she was about to do. She gave him a look that said she was going to play nice. “Both of you were prom royalty? That’s adorable! This must bring back a lot of memories for you!”

Her smile was strained, her jaw clenched, and she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, but she was getting through this. She would  _not_ fall apart on camera.

“I…Yes,” said Ivy. “I guess I can’t help but be a little nostalgic when I see a ballroom like this.”

“Same here,” said Vince. “Though I’m always happy to reminisce about simpler times.”

Just then, Carson appeared behind one of the cameras.

“Did I hear someone say that Ivy  _and_  Vince were prom queen and king?”

“You heard right,” said Vince.

“What do you say we get some footage of you two dancing? Our beautiful audience would love to see how royalty  _rules_  the dance floor.”

“We’d be delighted,” Ivy said, sending a smug smirk to Myrah, the message plain as day.

Myrah stared at Vince for a minute, wanting to see if he’d do anything to stop this. He looked at her somewhat regretfully but joined Ivy on the dance floor anyway. Dancing to the slow, romantic music  _she’d_  picked out.

“And…that’s my cue to leave,” she said, her heart feeling like lead in her chest. She escaped out into the hall for a few minutes, leaning against a wall and sliding down it, staring up at the ceiling to stop the tears. Several slow, deliberate breaths later, she decided to make her way back inside. She hoped she’d been able to miss most of the dance between Vince and Ivy, but they were still together, arm-in-arm, too close for the dance to be mistaken for anything other than what it was.  _Romantic_.

As the song came to an end, Carson took the stage.

“This will be the last song of the night, friends. But first, I want to congratulate you all on the best prom to ever hit Miami!”

The crowd cheered, the DJ playing another slow, romantic tune.

“This is going out to all you lovebirds out there,” Carson said.

Everyone began to pair up on the dance floor. Jen pulled her aside, telling her to take advantage of the whole “last dance of the night” situation.

“I’m sure there are several people dying to get a dance with you,” she said.

“I have just the person in mind,” Myrah replied, looking around the ballroom for Vince. But she saw to her dismay he was still dancing with Ivy. She told herself it didn’t matter. It was her first, and probably only, prom and she’d hoped to spend at least one dance in his arms, but she knew they had to keep up appearances for the cameras. She decided not to let her disappointment show. Instead, she made her way over to Slater. He looked at her with a surprised expression.

“Wanna dance with me?” she asked hopefully.

“I … Sure. That’d be cool.”

When they stepped out onto the dance floor, his hand immediately went to her waist, pulling her in a little tighter. As they swayed to the music, Slater chuckled softly.

“What’s so funny?”

“I won’t lie, you caught me off guard when you asked me to dance. I figured you’d rather hang with one of your friends from last season,” he said.

She lowered her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes, trailing a finger down the middle of his chest.

“Maybe I just want to get to know you better … And a slow dance seems as good a time as any,” she said.

Slater smiled at her slowly, his hand tightening further on her waist.

“I guess I should stop jumping to conclusions around you. You’re full of surprises, Myrah.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from.”

She leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers, making sure she was in full view of Vince when she did.

“Damn, Myrah…”

He reached up to cup the back of her head, taking his time kissing her back, again and again. Her fingers wound through the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly, causing him to moan against her lips.

“Now  _that_  is the kind of surprise I’m always here for.”

“Good to know.”

“I appreciate the dance, Myrah. But if you’re not ready for the night to end yet, you should come find me later. When the cameras are off,” he added, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he whispered the last part, sending a shiver down her spine.

“I’ll keep the offer in mind,” she said.

As the music faded, Slater stepped away with a wink. Onstage, Cason called out for the attention of the crowd.

“Thank you all for the wonderful evening! It’s been a lovely celebration of generosity and goodwill toward our community. Let’s have one final round of applause for the Little Havana Youth Center and the contestants of AME!”

After a long cheer, the camera crew began wrapping up for the evening. Bianca approached her, smiling slyly.

“So Myrah… I couldn’t help but noticed that  _someone_  couldn’t stop staring at you all night.”

“Who?” she asked, not really caring about the answer. Because the truth was, it wasn’t the  _someone_  she wanted to have been staring. Bianca rolled her eyes.

“Don’t even try to deny there was some flirting going on. And just between us friends… you should make the most of the time you have here.”

Myrah thought back to her days when she’d dreamed of having the kind of freedom she had now. To a time when she wouldn’t have to throw herself at the men in the shiny suits, when she didn’t have to take her life in her hands on the high wire or trapeze. Would  _that_  Myrah have been okay with her getting close to a man like Vince? Would  _that_  Myrah take Slater up on his offer? He certainly seemed like a more stable option. At least he wasn’t openly flirting with other women in front of her.

_Think, Myrah. What would Molly Ringwald do?_


	7. The Devil in her Heart [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Myrah chooses who she’s going to spend a romantic after-prom evening with. She and Vince both get jealous over who the other spent their prom night with, and they have a much-needed heart-to-heart. Myrah trusts someone with a secret.

_“You should enjoy this romantic, beautiful hotel while you have the chance.”_

Bianca was right. This was her prom night, or the closest she’d ever come to having one, and she should make the most of it. She looked around the dance floor, hoping to spot him through the comings and goings of the camera crew. Her eyes met Slater’s across the room. He flashed her a grin and a hotel room key, beckoning her over to him. She walked over to him, dodging the gaffers, ready to give him a piece of her mind. He smirked at her, obviously convinced she was coming over to accept his “invitation.”

“What makes you think I’m coming upstairs with you?”

“C’mon Myrah. I know you feel something here, too. You felt it at the waterfall, and you felt it tonight on the dance floor. Are you telling me you don’t want me as much as I want you?”

“I…”

“I want you, Myrah,” he said. “But I’m not going to beg. If you decide to come to me, I’ll be upstairs.”

She said nothing, too shocked by his speech to reply. Instead, she stood looking after him as he turned to go, unsure of what to do next. She hadn’t expected him to be more interested in  _romance_  than in a showmance.

“Slater, wait.”

He stopped, turning around with a wary look.

“Yes?”

“I have to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“How come you’re only nice to me? What’s so special about me?”

“Easy,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. “It’s ‘cause you’re the only person here I respect.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Uh huh. And that wouldn’t have anything to do with the invitation you just extended to me, would it?”

“No, though I’ll admit that having you in my bed would be a nice perk,” he said, winking at her salaciously. “Truth is, I respect winners. And even before I met you, when I was watching Season 10 of AME, I knew you had something special.”

“Oh, so  _that’s_  why you talk to me?” she said, teasing him, but also interested in his answer.

“ _And_ because I happen to like hanging out with you. That’s not a crime, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Just know I won’t wait forever,” he said before heading upstairs.

She shook her head, unsure of what to make of everything he’d just told her. She couldn’t deny that Slater was a good looking man, and she knew how her body responded to him. But though she’d kissed Slater tonight, there had only been one man on her mind tonight. 

She felt his eyes on her before she saw him.  _Vince._

She walked toward him with a swing in her hips meant only for him, admiring how handsome he looked in his suit. He’d been drawing her attention all night.  _And Ivy’s attention, too_ , she thought bitterly, the idea of the two of them dancing together rising like bile in her throat.

“So, did you have fun dancing with  _Ivy_  tonight?” she asked, not bothering to hide the jealousy in her voice.

She’d expected a cold reaction, some lecture on how they had to keep up appearances for the cameras. Instead, he smiled at her warmly, those damn beautiful eyes of his full of affection.

“It would have been more fun if it was with the woman I wanted to dance with.”

“Mhmm. Bet you say that to all the women you’re sleeping with.”

“Hmm, I guess I do,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pulled her in closer, tilting her chin to look up at him. She melted under his gaze, trying to resist the urge to close the gap between them and kiss him here in front of everyone. “Since you’re the only woman I’m sleeping with.”  

“Oh.”

“Did you have  _fun_  dancing with Slater?” he asked her, surprising her with the jealousy she heard in his voice.

“Are… are you …  _jealous_  of Slater?” she asked incredulously.

“Are  _you_  jealous of Ivy?” he asked, his voice rising.

“Yes,” she admitted, kicking herself for showing her hand.

“And all  _I_  did was dance with her. You  _kissed_  him,” he said, the accusation clear in his raised voice.

“ _You_  told me to play up the showmance,” she shot back at him.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to  _like_  it!”

They stood in a silent showdown, each feeling hurt by the others’ actions, chests heaving at the emotions they were holding back. Both feeling guilty for hurting the other. She broke the silence first.

“If it’s going to be a believable showmance, I have to play up the romance angle. You  _know_  that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s true for me, too, Myrah. I already told you how it would be when the cameras were on. It’s not any easier on me to watch  _you_  with another man than it is for you to watch  _me_  with another woman.”

She took a deep breath. He was right. She was being ridiculous. They both were.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He rested his forehead against hers, seemingly uncaring that there were still crew members and producers milling around who could see them.

“I’m sorry, too.”

She smiled at him, thinking about what she’d actually wanted to ask him.

“So now that we got that out of our systems, I was wondering… Now that the cameras are off, what do you say to you and me having a little fun?”

“Funny, I  _was_  hoping you’d be down to meet up later,” he said with a wink, fishing a hotel key out of his pocket. She shook her head and laughed.  _Men are so predictable_ , she thought.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Hand in hand, she and Vince stole away to his hotel room. It was all she could do to maintain her distance in the elevator, wanting more than anything to reach for him, to touch him. The instant they got to his room and she locked the door behind her, he pinned her against it.

“Mmm. Eager, are we?”

“I just go after what I want, Myrah. Thought that’s what you liked about me.”

His eyes were intense, his face so close to hers. Her breath caught as she lost herself in his heated gaze. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could hear his breathing, could smell his cologne.

“One of  _many_  things,” she answered.

He smirked, his eyes glittering with a spark of passion as he closed the space between them. She moaned, pressing herself closer against him until every inch of their bodies were touching. She could feel the heat of his skin under his jacket, the beating of his heart, pounding out a rhythm like a drum, like the beat of the music she’d missed dancing with him to earlier that night. She took his lower lip between her teeth, gently biting down for a moment. He groaned appreciatively.

“ _Damn_ , Myrah. How do you always know how to push my buttons?”

“You’re not as hard to read as you think.”  _Men never are._

He pushed his hips against hers, his arousal evident, his hands finding the curve of her ass, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. She felt the familiar ache build in her core, wetness coating the scrap of lace between her thighs. She moaned as his bucked his hips again, painfully aware of how much fabric was keeping her from being closer to him.

“What d’you say we lose these clothes?” he asked, his warm breath fanning her ear.

“Gladly.” It came out as more of a purr than a reply.

She decided he deserved to be teased tonight. She was going to make him wait, and she was going to make him work for it. She made a show of stripping for him, slowly, deliberately removing one strap at a time, slowing unzipping, before shimmying and stepping out of her dress, locking eyes with him and smirking as she stripped down to her underwear. His heated gaze took in every inch of her bare skin, his eyes dark with desire as he watched her remove the last few scraps of clothing.

“You’re so unbelievably sexy, Myrah. I can’t…”

He broke off, reaching a hand out to touch her, but she stilled him by grabbing his wrist.

“Nope. Sorry. No touching until we’re  _both_  out of our clothes.”

“Fair enough,” he said, that smug smirk back on his face.

He took none of the same care she had in removing his suit, quickly shedding every stitch of clothing he had on, tossing it all into a heap on the floor. She marveled at his naked form, eyes raking over him with admiration, taking in every detail. He looked as though he’d been sculpted from the finest marble by Michelangelo himself. It should have been unfair for a man so handsome to have such an amazing body, too. He raised an eyebrow, almost challengingly.

“What’re my next orders?”

She could see that he was turned on by her taking the lead. She was surprised since he so often was the dominant one when they’d been together in the past, but now, he seemed to  _want_  her to take charge.

“You should let me touch you,” she purred, slowly approaching him with swaying hips.

His eyes darkened even further as he watched her slow approach.

“Your wish is my command.”

His voice was husky, low, and he sauntered closer to her, close enough she was able to run her fingertips gently across his bare skin to tease him.

“Good boy,” she said, keeping her tone firm, but approving.

She traced the firm muscles of his shoulders, ran her hands over his chest, felt the ripple of his abs under her fingers. Though he stayed perfectly, obediently still, she could feel him trembling from the effort. She decided to push him, to see how far his obedience would go. She let her hand wander lower, tracing his v-line with the tips of her nails, lightly raking back up his ribs, only to ghost her fingertips back down to his hips.

He moaned loudly. “You’re driving me crazy here.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s been my plan since I invited you upstairs.”

“Myrah, I need to touch you.”

She arched one eyebrow, stepping out of reach.

“Is that so? I believe  _I’m_  the one giving orders here.”

“Are you going to make me beg?”

“Yes. Get on your knees and beg like a good boy.”

A flash of something crossed his face, a look of wanton desire as he knelt on the burgundy and gold hotel carpet. She knew it was likely scratchy, as most hotel carpeting was. She walked around behind him, inspecting him like a show pony. As she came back around behind him, she grabbed a fistful of hair and gently tugged his head back.

“Now beg.”

“Please,  _please_  let me touch you.”

The pure need in his voice coursed through her veins like wildfire, consuming her completely.

“Good boy. You can stand now.”

He stood, the redness on his knees and shins evidence of what he was willing to do for her.

“And now, Vince, you can touch me.”

Almost as soon as the words left her lips, his body was on hers, his fingertips tracing fiery trails along her skin, branding her as  _his._

“ _Vince…”_

The teasing had gone on long enough. She needed this…needed  _him_. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning close as he ran his fingertips along her chest, cupping and massaging her breasts before pinching her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, causing her to throw her head back and moan. Tingles of pleasure erupted under her skin as he lowered his head and replaced his hand with his mouth. His hands skimmed down her waist to the curve of her hips, settling there before cupping her ass and squeezing.

He rested his forehead against hers, eyes squeezed shut, before opening them and locking her in his gaze. “Myrah…I just want to make you feel good.”

Her answer was breathless. “Then don’t stop doing what you’re doing.”

Her lips found his in a heated, dizzying kiss, their limbs tangling together as they made their way toward the bed. His strong hands guided her body until she was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He knelt in front of her and caressed her face gently.

“Whatever you want to do from here, I’m in. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want to put this bed to use. And I’m not talking about sleeping.”

With his gaze still locked to hers, he pressed a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh, causing her to gasp.

“I got you,” he said, placing her thigh over his shoulder before lowering his mouth, teasing her with his tongue. She ran her hands through his hair, her blood racing as his lips moved across her skin. He glanced up at her, lips curving in a smirk.

“Let me take it from here.”

He alternated licking and sucking with plunging his tongue inside her, igniting a spark of pleasure that quickly raced through her blood. She let her head fall back as a groan escaped her.

“Oh,  _Vince_.”

She curled her fingers tightly into his hair, eliciting a rough moan from him.

“ _Myrah_ …”

She arched her hips against him, giving in to the waves of heat cascading through her body until she went over the edge with a cry.

“ _Yes!_ ” she cried out.

He lifted his head, placing kisses along her abdomen, back up to her chest before finding her lips again. The heat of his body and the cool crispness of the linens melding together, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire. They both moved up so they were more fully on the bed, limbs tangled together, hands wandering. She grasped his cock, pumping up and down, causing him to buck his hips against her hand. She delighted in the way he responded to her.

“Fuck, Myrah…”

“That’s the idea, big boy.”

He growled, flipping her over so she was lying on her stomach. He pulled her hips back and up, running a hand up and down her back as she circled her hips, wiggling her ass at him.

“God damn it, you are the most intoxicating woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, grabbing a handful of her ass.

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

He laughed. “Besides you? All the damn time.”

He slid a hand up her inner thigh, cupping her sex before running his fingers through her wet folds.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”

“Who am I to say no to that?” he said, moaning as he entered her in one swift motion. “God, Myrah,  _fuck_  you feel so good.”

She felt his breath on the back of her neck, felt his fingers digging into her hips, one hand snaking around to circle her clit, pushing to her to edge of orgasm. She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. Like every time before, it felt like they were made to fit each other. He was angled in just the right way to hit her sweet spot, over and over. She was so close.

“I never stop thinking about you,” he panted out. “You’re in my damn  _dreams_ , Myrah.”

She wasn’t capable of coherent speech, answering him instead with a low, whimpering moan. She felt her orgasm creeping up on her, the edges of her vision blurring, her heart hammering, white spots building behind her vision until she came again, crying out his name. He followed close behind her, collapsing against her, sweaty and breathless. He quickly rolled to his side, pulling her in tightly to him, stroking her hair gently. He murmured something into her hair that she didn’t hear, but she was too spent to ask about it.

Much later, and yet far too soon, Vince said what she’d been thinking. “I’m surprised Omar hasn’t tracked us down yet.”

“He’s probably got his hands full with Carson.”

“Lucky me. Means I get you all to myself for a little while.”

He kissed the top of her head, then sighed contentedly. She lifted her head, studying him carefully.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. It’s just … you surprise me sometimes. Why are you so damn charming?”

“Why’s that so surprising? I  _did_ win a season of this stupid show, once upon a time.”

“A  _lot_  of the All-Stars won their first seasons. That doesn’t mean any of them compare to you. I’m serious, Vince. There’s something about you that’s … different, somehow.”

“Good different?”

“ _Hot_  different. I guess I just wanna know your secret.”

“The secret is ‘never reveal your secrets’. If I did, I wouldn’t be much of a competitor, would I?”

She frowned. “I guess not.”

They lay in silence after that, both lost in thought. She couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his head. He broke the silence first.

“Tell me something about yourself, Myrah.”

“Like what?”

“I know all the same things about you the others know. I guess.. I just want to know  _more._  There’s something about you that makes me want to know everything about you. So… tell me a secret.”

“Trying to get into my head, huh?”

“It seems like a pleasant place to be.”

“Okay,” she said, her mind racing to come up with something that wouldn’t be  _too_  detrimental if he tried to use it against her. “I’d never had a prom before tonight.”

“What?!? What kind of high school did you go to that didn’t have a  _prom_?”

“I…” What did she answer? She couldn’t tell him about her family, or the sideshow, or the circus. She decided on a half-truth. “I was homeschooled.”

“I had no idea,” he said, wrapping his arms even tighter around her. “I’m so sorry you had to miss out on something so special. Did you … did you have a good time tonight?”

She looked up at him, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with their previous activities. “You know, it started off kinda rocky, but it ended with a bang.”  

He groaned as she giggled at her pun. “You are the  _worst_.”

“But you like it.”

“I love it,” he said, something fleeting flashing across his face.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then reluctantly sat up.

“I hate to say this, but we should probably head back down. Any longer and Omar is going to send a search party after us.”

She laughed. “We wouldn’t want that.”

They hastily put their clothes back on, and she stood smoothing her hair down in the mirror. He nudged her with his shoulder, grinning.

“They can say what they want about us, but nobody does prom night like we do.”

“I dunno. I can think of  _one_ thing that would make it better.”

“If I can make this night any more special for you, say the word.”

She reached for him, trailing a hand down the sleeve of his suit.

“I really wanted to dance with you tonight.”

“But there’s no music playing.”

“That wouldn’t get in the way of a  _real_  All-Star, would it?”

He chuckled, then took her hand and gently twirled her.

“Well, you got me there.”

He pulled her in close to him, humming softly, a tune she’d heard before, an old ballad. They swayed in silence, dancing to an imaginary beat, as he gently stroked her hair, holding her close. She felt her heart swell, his gentleness and care at odds with the man she thought she knew. With one last spin, Vince took a bow.

“Is my lady appeased?”

“Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin. “I wouldn’t say no to one more kiss before we have to go back to being enemies.”

“Gladly,” he said with a soft smile, pulling her back in until his lips met hers. She pressed herself against him, savoring the warmth of his lips, the feeling of his body.

“ _Vince…”_

His strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her anchored to his chest. Then, all too soon, he pulled away. She felt his absence keenly, as though a piece of her had been removed.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“For now. But you owe me more in the future, you got that?”

He smiled coyly, his eyes sparkling.

“Looking forward to it.”

He brushed her cheek one final time before opening the door and heading back out to the world of manufactured love and lies. In that moment, as he looked at her so tenderly, she realized how far she’d fallen for him.

_Damn it, Myrah. You are so fucked._

 


	8. The Devil Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome back, my Vince and Myrah stans! PB didn’t give us much of these ne’er-do-wells together this week, but I’m not gonna let something like that stop me!! Oh, and Slater x Myrah fans? He’s back soon. Next chapter. Don’t worry, our boy isn’t out of the running for Myrah’s affections yet. In this chapter, more of Myrah’s heartbreaking past is revealed, and we get a glimpse of why Peter chose to join the crew running a heist in Monaco! this one is short, but it’s as fluffy as they’re willing to get at this point.

_“You best listen to your daddy if you know what’s good for you, girl.”_

_She ignored the little voice inside her that told her to run. She knew from experience that was the worst thing she could do. Even if she did manage to get away, he’d likely find her. She’d overheard enough stories to know that. She was with Lulu one day, talking to one of the girls who’d made the mistake of running away from her husband. Her name was Olesya and she did corde lisse and the hair hang and she had a gold tooth, and she always wore so much body glitter that Myrah and Loretta called her a human disco ball while she was suspended in the air. Myrah thought she always smelled like cigarettes and sadness._

_She was in Lulu’s tent talking about how he’d slapped her around again when he thought she was flirting with Tiny Wagner, the strongman. Lulu was telling her she should run away, leave him for good, but she said that she’d tried to leave before and he always found her, and when he brought her back things were always worse and she couldn’t perform for a while. No, it was easier just to hope that he’d miss his landing next time he did the human cannonball stunt than it was for her to try to disappear. But he didn’t miss. He_ never  _missed._

_Myrah couldn’t even hold out hope for an accident. Her dad never performed anymore, preferring instead to let her and Peter earn the money that went into buying his bottles of tequila. When they came up short because it was time to pay lot rent for their trailer, he’d make homemade wine he called “pruno” in a garbage bag and it smelled up the place for days._

_And now he was telling her it wasn’t enough. The traveling, the performing, the damn cons she was running on men with leering eyes, their smiles like weapons and their breath like a hot fishing pier on a mid-August day, who wore shiny suits and gold watches that glinted in the sun. No, today he’d told her that he wanted to sell her to those men._

_She’d argued against it. She’d given in to everything he’d ever asked her to do for him, even when it put her in harm’s way, but she wouldn’t give in this time. He could kill her if that’s what it meant but this was a line she wouldn’t cross._ _  
_

_She’d expected the beating, she always did. The inevitable bruises that she covered with makeup or strategically placed ribbon and lycra. The cuts from his belt lashing against her arms, her ribs, always mended up by Loretta. Myrah had come to expect it all, and had stopped questioning herself each time why she didn’t run. Because she knew he’d just drag her back. Because she knew nobody would believe her. Because it was her fault for staying._ _  
_

_What Myrah hadn’t expected was Peter._

_Peter had been gone again, for days this time. It was always worse when he was gone because he’d stand up to their dad. She didn’t have the strength to do that. She was never strong like he was. Not until that night. That night, when her dad told her what he wanted her to do, she refused. She said no, maybe for the first time ever. She thought about what that might mean, and she could live with grifting, but she wouldn’t be made any man’s whore._

_And just as she’d expected, the explosion came shortly after._

_“I’m giving you one chance to change your mind, girl. Now you think real hard on it because if the next thing that comes out of your mouth isn’t ‘yes, Daddy,’ you’ll wish you’d never been born.”_

_She squared her shoulders, clenched her jaw, and prepared for the worst._

_“I said no.”_

_That was the wrong answer. It was the worst beating she’d taken from him yet. If Peter hadn’t shown up when he did…She shuddered to think about it. The memory of that night had haunted her ever since. Continued to haunt her. Her dad’s eyes blinded by rage, not seeing her even as he stared at her, then later, those same eyes cold and lifeless. She’d sometimes wake in the middle of the night and swear those eyes were watching her. She wondered if Peter had the same troubles. But then the fire…_

“Myrah?”

She startled at the sound of her name, wondering how long she’d been reliving the past. She looked out over the ocean, noticing how high the moon was, how dark the night had become. The stars overhead were snuffed out by a canopy of clouds, the waning moon only occasionally peeping through.

“What time is it?”

“It’s 3 am. Are you okay? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

She hadn’t meant it to come out as snarky as it had, but she felt like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. She wondered if the guilt would ever go away.

Vince just chuckled as he sat down beside her. “I guess you could say I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Really? Are you and Ivy scheming together again?”

She winced when she heard how jealous she’d sounded. She didn’t want this to go beyond making him her ally so she could crush him, but … even she knew she’d found herself actually feeling something for him. He was such an ass on camera, but the second the cameras were not on him, when the others weren’t around, he was actually  _sweet_  and vulnerable with her. And she’d fallen, and fallen  _hard_  for him and he was probably using her in the same ways she’d wanted to use him.

He answered her with a wry grin.

“I thought we’d been over this already. What do I have to do to make you believe me?”

“I don’t know. Guess I’ll find out after I talk to Ivy tomorrow. Or … today, I guess. Whatever.”

“Care to enlighten me? I thought you two hated each other.”

“I don’t hate her. She’s the one trying to convince everyone that I’m out to get her. I  _won_  last season even though she cheated. I’m not threatened by her.”

“Okay, so then why are you planning to talk to her?” he asked, seemingly genuinely confused. He mock-gasped and asked, “ _Myrah_ , are you going to threaten her to stay away from your man?”

She giggled. “Since when are  _you_  ‘my man’?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, that smug smirk on his face.

“I never said I was talking about  _myself_ , Myrah. She’s partnered with  _Adam_  … you know, the guy who quit for you last season? How do you know I didn’t mean  _him_?”

She felt herself flush, her embarrassment washing over her in a heated wave. And some guilt over the fact that Adam still seemed to be hung up on her, even though she’d tried to gently let him down after the show was over.

“Well, I didn’t feel like your ego could handle talking about anyone but yourself,” she countered.

“Mhmm. Whatever you have to tell yourself, little bird.”

_Little bird._

_“Little bird, stay with me. Let me be your mama. This is your life, this is where you belong.”_

_Lulu always called her ‘little bird’ because she was one of the best trapeze artists in the camp. She liked tightrope okay, she didn’t mind sword swallowing, but flying through the air on the trapeze was the one thing that made her feel free, that made her forget for a while. She never forgot how miserable she’d been when she was grounded for 3 weeks after falling from a missed catch and injuring her shoulder. She’d slipped right out of Rafael’s grip, watching him get smaller as time slowed. She knew the net was below to catch her, but a fall for an aerialist always stayed with you, like a brand, a smudge on your record that made your partners less likely to trust you the next go-round. She landed hard, trying to remember to angle herself properly, but she hit the net hard and bounced, the rough rope burning her skin, creating small tears in her sparkly tights. It was when she landed the second time that she went sideways, her arm falling under her at an unnatural angle. It was nothing more than a pulled muscle and a pinched nerve, but until she had full range of motion back, she wasn’t able to even practice._

_She used to think that was one of the worst times of her life. She didn’t know it could get worse._

Her mind began racing, wondering if Vince had somehow figured out her secret. Is that what Ivy wanted to talk to her about? Quit the show or she’d tell everyone about who Myrah really was? About where she was from? About Peter?

“Little bird?” she asked cautiously, wanting to feel him out but not give anything away if he honestly didn’t know.

He shrugged. “You remind me a bit of a bird. You’re beautiful to look at, and you don’t seem to mind preening for me, but I feel like if I make any sudden moves, you’ll fly away.”

“I told you a secret.”

“You did. And I’m honored you shared that with me, but I had to ask for it and hope you didn’t run out the door as soon as I did. I know that…” he hesitated, his eyes fixed on the horizon as he searched for his next words carefully. “I know that I haven’t done anything to prove myself trustworthy in the past. But I need you to understand that it was never personal.”

He stopped, turning to face her. She began to answer him, but he stopped her.

“Just…please let me get this out, okay? I like you, Myrah. I  _really_  like you, despite everything in me that says I shouldn’t. I don’t know if you feel the same way, or if you even  _believe_  me, but I just had to say it. I needed you to hear it once.”

Her head was swirling, her thoughts racing. Was this another mind game? Another way to build up her trust so that she’d let down even more defenses, leaving her open to attack? How soon would it be before he turned on her the same way he’d turned on Adam? And why the hell did she want it to be true? 

“Have I rendered you speechless?”

His smile had none of the bravado it usually had. The man before her didn’t appear to be playing a game. If he was, he was really good at it. What she saw before her was a man who was vulnerable, who was putting himself out there, and hoping for some kind of response. She felt her heart swell, knowing this was something she’d been longing to hear for a while now.

“A little, yeah,” she said, smiling at him softly. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging so long. I… I really like you, too.”

“Then I guess I’ve already won this Season’s most important prize, haven’t I?” he said, chuckling as she groaned.

“That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

He laughed before leaning in to kiss her tenderly. He rested his forehead on hers for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m sorry, little bird, but I need to get back to sleep. I don’t want to think what I’d look like on camera on only a few hours.”

She nodded as he stood to walk away. He stopped and turned to her before going back inside.

“You should get some rest, too. I don’t know what she wants, but dealing with Ivy can be exhausting. You need your strength.”

Another wave of anxiety washed over her, wondering what it was Ivy wanted to say. But Vince was right. For now, she needed to get some rest and not worry about what the morning would bring.

She’d know soon enough.


	9. Someone to Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy has made Myrah an offer she feels like she may not be able to refuse…but can she find a way to be okay with the decision she has to make? A storm is brewing inside and outside the mansion as tensions rise and loyalty is questioned. Myrah and Vince share a moment in the calm before the storm.

_“He could’ve seriously hurt someone in that laser tag arena.”_

Myrah had been mulling over Ivy’s offer for hours. She was sitting on the deck with her knees drawn to her chest, chin resting atop them while she mindlessly twirled strand after strand of hair through her fingers, a nervous habit she’d acquired years before that helped her think.

_“As long as Slater’s in this house, nobody’s safe.”_

Ivy had a point, Slater  _was_  playing dirty. But then … so was Ivy.  _And so was Vince_ , she told herself with a wince. To an extent, they were all playing a dirty game. Was he a little too aggressive during that challenge? Definitely. Did she approve? No. Did he deserve to be betrayed for it? That was the real question.

_“It’s only a matter of time before your ‘partner’ puts a target on your back.”_

Would Slater betray her if it meant winning again? And for that matter, wouldn’t that be the smart way to play the game? This was ultimately about winning the game, winning the prize. She couldn’t fault him for doing that in whatever way he felt like he needed to do, and there was no pretense on his end. Not like with Vince. Not like with Ivy.

_“As long as I’m safe, it gives me the power to save two people next week.”_

_“Meaning the other two would be automatically eliminated.”_

_“Exactly. If you throw the next challenge, it would mean Slater would be in the Bottom Four with you.”_

_“Just how stupid do you think I am?”_

Myrah threw her head back, letting out a frustrated groan as she continued to deliberate. The crashing of waves, the gathering of clouds low on the horizon, the increased humidity were all indicative of a rising storm. She knew the tells of the weather, knew how to read the ocean like her own private doppler.

_“Storms a-comin’, girl! Get your ass in gear!”_

_Summer storms always seemed to spring up from out of nowhere, and yet her father always knew it before they arrived. He’d yell for her and Peter to go lash down anything that could turn projectile should a tornado spawn. She always knew it was going to be a particularly bad or long one if they took shelter inside one of the buildings for fear of their trailer being carried off to Oz._

_Tornadoes didn’t happen all that often, not that close to the ocean, but when they did, it was a hellsite. Hell, one year, they’d had four in rapid succession, one of them cutting a swath through town a mile wide. They lost several buildings, including her favorite barbecue restaurant and the little rundown shack where they made the best chicken and waffles this side of the Florida-Georgia line._

_She was hiding out in the museum building with several other families, Peter clutching her tightly to him as though he thought the tornado was coming for her personally. She got scared at one point, realizing she didn’t know where their dad was, and cried softly while Peter held her and stroked her hair, singing her an old song their mama used to hum._

_“Meet me tonight in the moonlight / Meet me tonight all alone / I have a sad story to tell you / I’ll tell by the light of the moon / I wish I had someone to love me / Someone to call me their own / Someone to stay with me always / I’m weary of being alone.”_

_The song brought her comfort at the time. She could almost hear her mama’s voice quietly humming along with him. Peter had more memories of her than Myrah did, being so much older when she left. That song was one of the few memories they still had of her, her lilting voice humming or singing snippets of it as she cleaned around the trailer._

_It was those memories that kept her calm during the tornado. She remembered Peter not wanting to let her out of his sight for days later, even staying in her room at night, falling asleep holding her hand while sitting in the chair next to her bed, as though he was afraid she would disappear in the night. The way her mama had._

Myrah stood, stretching her aching muscles before walking up to the railing to lean against it. She loved the way the wind moved before a good storm rolled in, as though the air itself was ready to fight. She let it whip her hair across her face as she blindly stared out in the direction the ocean would be were it not for the blanket of mist that had settled over the shoreline.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She smiled ruefully, not wanting to have this conversation with anyone just yet, but thankful for the intrusion nonetheless.

“Not sure if they’re deep enough to be worth that much,” she quipped.

His rumbling laugh answered her. “Guess I’ll just have to take my chances that I’ll get my money’s worth, then.”

He settled next to her, leaning on the railing a companionable distance away, arms not quite touching, but close enough that she was very aware of his proximity. Though she didn’t look over, she could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye.

“I just have a lot on my mind right now,” she said, sighing heavily.

“And does any of that involve a top-secret meeting that everyone saw Ivy ‘sneaking’ up to the roof for?”

She looked over at him, his sun-bleached hair and golden tan illuminated by the pale sliver of moonlight that still graced the sky. She was attracted to him, yes, but did she trust him? She decided to test the waters with him, see where he fell.

“I may have been meeting with Ivy, yes,” she finally answered. “She gave me a few things to think about.”

“And let me guess. She wants to form an alliance, save Adam to get rid of Vince or Bianca or someone…”

He had no idea how close he was.

“Ivy asked me to throw the next competition,” she said quietly, as though to speak it aloud would be to speak it into existence.

She shivered lightly, the night air sending a chill through her. He moved closer to her, pulling her against him for warmth. She smiled up at him in thanks.

“And what are you going to do?” he asked carefully, as though he was unsure he wanted to know the answer.

The waves continued to crash on the shore below, breaking and then receding back, marking the passing of time, the inevitable march forward that Myrah wished she could stop just long enough to have a brief respite from having to make decisions. For herself, for others, decisions that could have lasting consequences.

She looked up into his soft, honey-brown eyes, willing him to understand that this was nothing personal.

“I…I’m sorry, Slater. I just don’t know yet.”

She felt the arm that was around her tense momentarily, but then he nodded slowly before looking back out to the horizon.

“I see.”

“Slater, I…”

“Save it, Myrah. I get it. It’s a game, and you’re playing it, same as everyone else. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I just … please let me explain,” she began.

“Don’t bother. I think you’ve said enough for now,” his voice had gone cold, like the unseasonable winter winds she’d felt when touring in the midwest in the Fall. “You’ve got a lot to think about, so I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to bed.”

He turned and stalked back into the mansion, leaving her feeling even more confused than before. This just didn’t feel right to her. Even though Slater had just proven that he could turn on her on a dime, she still didn’t feel okay betraying him. It felt wrong, whether because it was Slater, or because it was Ivy, or maybe even because it really  _was_ wrong… she wasn’t sure the reasoning mattered. 

_Maybe that’s the difference between me and Vince,_  she thought.  _He’d turn on me in a second if it meant he had a better shot of winning. Why can’t I be like that?_

“Damn it, Peter, where are you when I need you?”

_“Why are you leaving the country?”_

_“It’s a big job, my little diamond, and it’s all I need to stop grifting and go legit.”_

_“But what if you get caught? This isn’t some James Bond bullshit where they’ll talk you to death while you figure out how to escape. Jail is not the same in other countries as it is here!”_

_“Sweetie, it’s Monaco, not North Korea. There’s a damn McDonald’s. I promise you, your big brother isn’t a complete idiot. I’m not working with just anyone. These guys are the best of the best.”_

_“Just please be careful. You’re all I have left.”_

_“What have I always told you, Myrah?”_

_“That you’ll always be here to protect me.”_

_“And I will. I will_ always _protect you. Always. Just…try to stay out of trouble until I get back, okay? It’ll be a teeny bit harder to protect you from the other side of the Atlantic.”_

“Should I be worried about you wishing another man was here?”

Myrah jumped, startled at the sound of Vince’s voice in the doorway behind her. She turned back to him to see his brows were furrowed, a look of concern etched into his features again. She seemed to see that look on him quite often recently.

“I … uh … what?”

“Peter? The man you were just wishing was here when you needed him? Boyfriend back home?”

She stared at him for a moment before breaking into a light laugh. She couldn’t believe it. Vince was  _jealous_.

“He’s my brother.”

He raised an eyebrow at that.  “You have a brother?”

She eyed him warily. “I do. Why are you so curious?”

Vince looked taken aback by her suspicion, but after her meeting with Ivy, and then Slater, she was on edge.

“You just never talk about your family, that’s all,” he said, trying to mollify her. “I just thought it was an interesting fact about you. You’re very secretive for someone who’s always telling people to open up, you know.”

“I guess I never really thought about it,” she shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

In reality, she  _did_  know how secretive she was, and it was very much by design. No one could know about her family, who they were…what they did. If anyone ever found out what Peter had done…what he’d done for  _her_ …

“So, any other secret siblings out there?”

“No, just the one. You?”

“Two. A brother and a sister. I’m the youngest.”

“Me too. Peter’s 7 years older, so he  _thinks_  he’s my dad….”

She trailed off, realizing she was sharing more than she should. It was time to stop talking and let Vince take over.

“So what’s it like having two of them bossing you around?” she asked, hoping he’d start talking about himself and lose interest in asking her questions.

He laughed, shaking his head. “I guess it was okay. They really had each other, so I was more of an afterthought to them. Seems like you and your brother were close, though.”

“We were… _are_. He’s …” she paused, not wanting to reveal too much. “He’s amazing, and he’s always been there for me.”

She was staring at the horizon again, thoughts of Peter and all he’d done for her through the years racing through her mind. When she realized he hadn’t responded in a while, she looked up at him, drawing in a breath as she did so. He was looking at her so warmly, an expression on his face she didn’t dare try to interpret. For a beat, they just stood there, eyes locked on each other, no sound but the ocean, the wind, and the distant rumble of thunder that grew closer with the roll of each wave crashing to shore.

They moved imperceptibly closer, drawn together like the inexorable marching of time. Vince brought his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, his lips brushing hers in a feather-light touch that made her sigh in contentment. She crashed her lips to his, her need for him all-consuming, a storm of her own brewing below her surface like a tropical depression. They were tearing at each other’s clothes, lips and hands exploring bared skin, their passions carrying them away.

It was at that moment the rain broke the sky, the fat droplets hitting the deck with a percussive rhythm like a bodhrán drum. Myrah laughed, squealing at the cold water that was soaking through what little clothing she’d managed to still be wearing. 

As she and Vince hurriedly dressed and ran inside for cover, she paused in the doorway to look back at the streaks of lightning that made their way across the sky, illuminating everything in the vicinity. Vince pulled her back to him for one more kiss before they went to their respective rooms.

Myrah knew this was going to be another restless night, the decision she needed to make still weighing on her mind. The idea of betraying Slater was still heavy in her heart, it still felt wrong to her, but she now had a better idea of the direction she wanted to go. Vince was at least always honest about who and what he was. She still didn’t know where she stood with Slater. Maybe it was time for a new partner.


	10. No Going Back [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we learn more about Myrah’s past and what drives her to succeed, we learn about her decision regarding Slater, and Vince makes a late-night confession. What will all this mean for our favorite AME contestants?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Did anyone else agonize over Ivy’s offer like I did? Because damn, I replayed so many times just to weigh my options. I still don’t feel good about betraying Slater like that, and neither does Myrah.

“At least Vince  _knows_  he’s a villain. Slater still thinks he’s the ‘cool guy’ in the house.”

Eden’s words hit Myrah hard. She knew Ivy had it out for Slater, but it sounded like some of the others weren’t quite ready to forgive him for the laser tag fiasco yet either. As his partner, how long would it be before she became guilty by association? She’d already seen the effect rumors could have when Lina started telling everyone last season she was sleeping with the crew.

“You’re not the only ones surprised. He was competitive during Season 7, but…”

Myrah cleared her throat, not wanting to hear the rest of it. She already had a hard enough decision to make today and this was only going to confuse her more. The room suddenly went quiet, everyone refusing to make eye contact with her. Eden was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Um, hey Myrah.”

“How much of that did you hear?” Kiana asked.

This was the moment of truth. Did she choose to defend Slater and sell their showmance, or did she throw him under the bus to the others to save face?

“Pretty much all of it,” she said. “Listen, if you’ve got a problem with Slater…”

She paused, looking around the room, heart pounding wildly. There would be no going back from here.

“If you’ve got a problem with Slater, we’re in the same boat,” she finally said. “We’ve all seen what he’s really like now. Just be thankful  _you_  don’t have to work with him.”

_Please let this have been the right decision,_  she prayed silently to herself. Her mind flashed to Vince, wondering what he’d think of her deliberately sabotaging her partner while Kiana and Eden comforted her. Fatimah asked Jen if anything could be done about him, but Jen admitted he hadn’t broken any rules and that he was great for ratings. Myrah knew that was the case, of course. It was why Vince had tried to convince her that a showmance with Slater was her best bet.

Myrah thought about that as they were being whisked away to their next challenge. If she decided to trust Ivy, and Ivy actually kept her promise, that would end the showmance. It would also end their partnership. Who would she be partnered with next? What would happen with Vince’s plan to put them all in the top three?

She hadn’t even had a chance to talk to him about this. She’d only slipped a note under his door early this morning when she found herself unable to sleep, her own racing thoughts impeding any hope of rest. The note said simply, “Need to talk to you about Slater.”

And now here they were with crew milling about and cameras pointed at them, unable to speak outside of Vince’s cryptic nod and semi-compliment as his eyes swept over her lycra-clad form. Though his voice registered indifference, she could read him well enough now to see the hunger in his eyes as he took in every curve, every line of her.  

“I didn’t realize athleisure wear could be so flattering!” Ivy exclaimed, walking up to stand beside him.

Myrah had been so caught up in watching him she’d failed to even notice the tall pageant queen make her entrance.

“Oh…uh…thanks!” she stammered.

Carson was standing by a row of tandem bikes, calling for everyone’s attention. Vince made eye contact with Myrah once more, silently asking if everything was okay. She gave a small nod, moving to Slater’s side as they all listened to Carson explain the challenge.

“It’s a  _beautiful_  day for a Challenge that’s all about teamwork, contestants! It’s a  _tandem_  bike race!”

“A  _biking_  challenge?” Adam asked. “Thanks for making this an easy win, Carson.”

“Not so fast, Turbo,” Slater said. “You haven’t won yet.”

“I only wish I could be riding alongside you all,” Carson said it in his  _announcer_  voice he turned on solely for the cameras. “Unfortunately, my biking suit is still at the dry cleaners…”

Myrah shared a look with Vince, who looked equally confused.

“Biking suit?” she mouthed to him, stifling a giggle as he made a face and mimed straightening a tie.

“So I’ll just have to live vicariously through our  _glamorous_ contestants!”

Bianca began to complain that they were doing yet another outdoor Challenge and it still didn’t involve swimming. Myrah couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she and Slater stood waiting while the crew set up their bike for them. Slater hadn’t said anything to her since their conversation on the roof the night before and it looked like he might continue ignoring her throughout the Challenge.

“Hey, Slater, I…”

But as soon as she began, they were being signalled to get on their bikes and put on their helmets. Slater opted to climb on the back, looking her up and down appraisingly.

“Glad to be riding with the most  _winning_  contestant,  _partner_ ,” he said, not even hiding that he was mentally undressing her.

_Just be nice, Myrah._  “Just make sure you’re watching the road and not my outfit,” she said.  _Don’t be staring at my ass_ , the unspoken part of that remaining off her tongue.

He smirked at her, not making any move to stop staring.

“I’ll do my best,” he said.

She shook her head, moving to get on the front of the bike as Carson brought out a starter pistol. As she looked down the line, Ivy caught her eye. Myrah took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, showing nothing on her face.

_Moment of truth. I either win this Challenge or throw it to get Slater into the Bottom Four. You’ve got this Myrah._

She heard the crack of the starter pistol and jumped into action, taking off across the starting line. Her heart was hammering in her chest, less from the exertion of pedaling than from the decision she knew she must make. She was worried she was making the wrong choice, worried about the consequences of her choices. Myrah knew better than most what could happen when you made bad decisions.

_“I’m scared.”_

_Myrah was standing on the platform, working up the nerve to walk out on the high wire. She’d been practicing tightrope with Loretta’s family for months. This was her big moment, the first time she was to practice on the high wire without a safety harness. Even though there was a net below her now, she knew there wouldn’t be when she was out there performing._

_“Just remember what we practiced. Use your arms to counterbalance, keep your eyes on your spot. You have good balance and you’re strong. You can do this.”_

_Rafael was always so patient with her, almost as much a big brother to her as Peter was. She trusted him, she did, but she was still afraid. She took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as she took her first step out onto the thick cable. She counterbalanced with her arms, remembering to keep her eyes on a level spot in the distance. All she had to do was walk forward. All the tricks, the gymnastics, they’d come later. For now, she just had to walk forward. One platform to the other. She was about halfway across when she panicked, freezing in place. Her breathing grew shallow, white spots crowding her vision before she blacked out, falling to the safety net below._

_When she regained consciousness, she knew she had to go back up. She was supposed to climb back to the top and repeat the process until she made it across. The expectation was that it didn’t matter what happened when you were learning, you still got back up over and over again until you got it. But that day she let her fear get the better of her. She refused to go back up, refused to make the climb back to the platform. She’d never had this problem with the trapeze, but she always had a safety net with that._

_She apologized, unable to stop the tears gathering, Rafael’s disappointment palpable. He’d refused to give her any further lessons, saying she wasn’t ready for it, maybe not cut out to be a tightrope walker. She knew it made her a disappointment, to both Loretta’s family and to her dad. She needed to work to make money and the more she was able to do, the more likely she was to get hired._

_This meant she needed to earn Rafael’s trust back, that she needed to prove to him that she was ready. He wouldn’t even look at her until she’d finally shown him that she was willing to put in the work. She practiced by herself every day, falling over and over again until she finally made it across._

_It was two months of her practicing alone before he was finally willing to give her another chance. Two months of training lost. Two months where all she could do was walk from one platform to another._

_In any other circumstance, two months wouldn’t be long, but when her livelihood depended on her learning new skills, even one lost day meant she wasn’t getting the training she needed to perform. It meant losing money. It meant maybe not eating because she needed to pay lot rent and buy her dad’s booze._

_She never made the mistake of letting her fear get in the way again. She never wanted to be in a position again where her fear kept her from surviving._

In her peripheral vision, she saw something hurtling toward them. It was Vince and Mackenzie’s bike, coming far too close. Mackenzie called out to her.

“Myrah, on your left!”

She twisted her handlebars, banking to the right to avoid their bike while maintaining their lead. Vince winked at her as she rode past him. They turned the corner just as Eden swerved out of the way of a soccer ball, now rolling directly at them.

“What’s going on up there?!?” Slater shouted at her.

“Oh my god Slater, you need to turn!”

“What are you talking about?” he asked incredulously. “You’re in the front! Turning is  _your_  job!”

“I — Oh shit, you’re right!”

The front wheel collided with the ball, slowing them down.

“What are you doing?”

“My bad,” she said forlornly, hoping he bought that it was an accident. After another turn, they’d started looping back to the starting/finish line. Vince and Mackenzie were close behind them, and soon Derek and Kiana were hot on their heels.

“They’re gonna pass us,” Slater called to her.

Myrah slowed down just as Slater began to pedal faster. The bike’s gears began to whir as it tried to balance their conflicting paces.

“What are you  _doing_?”

“Just keep going!” she called back to him.

They raced toward the finish line, Derek and Kiana neck and neck with them, Vince and Mackenzie on their heels. At the last minute both teams pulled ahead of Myrah and Slater, leaving them in third place. Carson announced Derek and Kiana as the winners.

“Sadly, along with Challenge winners, there must always be … those who are  _not_  winners.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is  _losers_ ,” Vince offered with a smug grin.

Fuck, he was good at being a villain. His words stung, and Myrah would hate him if she didn’t know he only turned that on for the cameras and crew. Ivy caught her eye.

“Sorry things didn’t work out, Myrah and  _Slater_. At least  _one_  of you will be sticking around,” she said.  _Subtle, Ivy. Real subtle._

“Ivy, this had better be worth it,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“Oh, I’ll remember this when I’m voting. That’s a promise,” Ivy responded loudly.

“Remember what?” Slater asked.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

As he looked between Myrah and Ivy his confusion turned to anger.  _He knows. What have you done? You should never have told him, you idiot._

“Don’t tell me you’re working with  _her_ ,” he spat out. “You actually took the deal. How  _could_  you?”

Myrah felt her heart sink in her chest, his anger justified but still hard to face. He spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding her, sending her a withering look when she met his eyes during the Date Card reveal. She shrunk back, Vince surreptitiously placing himself between her and Slater when he saw what was happening. When the announcement was made that the date would be a one-on-one, Myrah was happy for Derek and Kiana.

“You guys better have a drink for me,” she said. “I hope you two have a hell of a dinner.”

“Yeah, live it up for the both of us,” added Mackenzie.

Derek chuckled. “We’ll do our best, don’t you worry.”

Slater sighed loudly, muttering under his breath, “Could’ve been  _us_  on that dinner if  _some people_  remembered how to ride a bike,” he said, glaring at her. Vince reached out behind him, hooking her finger with his, a signal he had her back if needed. She smiled to herself, glad she had him there and desperate to be out of that room. She felt like she was suffocating in there. Carson was going on about how they should all be happy for the winners and how everyone should be saving their energies for tomorrow.

Elimination was around the corner and she was in the Bottom Four and in danger of going home for the first time all season. If Ivy didn’t keep her promise, Myrah would be going to the Jury House. She saw that Jen was upset, so stayed behind to talk to her when Carson finally let them go. Jen shared that Piper was texting her, and she wanted to be supportive, but she didn’t have the energy right now. She needed to be alone with her thoughts right now.

She made her way to her room, thankful again that she didn’t have to share with anyone. With nobody around to judge her, she sighed and dramatically flopped onto the bed, burying her face in the comforter and willing the bed to just swallow her whole. She’d made a huge mess of everything, and she still wasn’t sure it had been the right decision.

She heard a soft knock at the door. Thinking it was probably Mackenzie, she called out to the person to go away. The sound of the door opening and softly closing again told her that whoever it was had chosen not to listen. She refused to sit up, remaining sprawled across the bed. If they wanted to talk, they could talk to her like this, she decided huffily. She was surprised to hear the rich timbre of Vince’s voice cut through the silence that hung in the air.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

HIs voice was gentle, laced with concern. She felt the bed dip where he’d sat on it beside her, felt his hand slide up her back. She lifted her head and looked over at him.

“The note I left you…”

“About Slater?”

She nodded.

“What’s going on? Is he giving you trouble?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“No, nothing like that. It’s… remember Ivy wanted to meet with me?”

“Yeah?”

“She asked me to throw today’s Challenge so she could use her advantage to save me and eliminate Slater, and … I did.”

She threw her head back down as he stroked her back.

“How are you feeling about that? I know you and Slater were … close.”

“We were partners, but we weren’t really close. And honestly, the way he’s been acting lately… I don’t know. It didn’t seem like he was the guy I thought he was. But I’ve ruined your plan. What do we do now?”

“Listen, the way he’s been playing, he would’ve dragged you down at some point if he kept going the way he’s been going. Don’t worry about the showmance. Everything will work out as long as Ivy keeps her word.”

She rolled over on her side, regarding him. He continued to surprise her. She really hadn’t expected to care about him as much as she did. She hadn’t expected him to be the person he was. He laid next to her, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheek. She covered his hand with her own, watching the way his eyes searched her face, lingering on her lips. She felt her heart thundering in her chest, her breath catching at the intensity of his gaze. His hand trailed down her throat, traveling down her torso, resting on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

She ran her hands through his hair, tugging at his curls as his hand traveled to her hip, kneading at the flesh, moving back to her ass, squeezing lightly before ghosting down her thigh, pulling her leg up over his hip. He drew his own leg up between her thighs, allowing her to grind against him. His lips met hers in a fiery kiss, his strong arms wrapped around her, holding her flush against him. When they broke apart, he nuzzled into her hair, his teeth grazing her ear.

“Myrah…” he whispered. “I need you.”

“I’m yours.”

He pulled at her clothes, baring her to him before undressing himself and rejoining her on the bed. He kissed his way down her neck, down to her chest, capturing a nipple in his mouth, gently grazing the bud with his teeth. His fingers trailed up her thigh, parting her folds when he reached the apex, feeling the slick wetness that he was the cause of.

“My god, you’re so wet,” he moaned, plunging a finger into her, eliciting a gasp from her.

“Vince… _fuck_ , don’t stop.”

He withdrew his finger, lining himself up at her entrance. They both moaned as he entered her slowly, delighting in the feel of each other as he began to move within her. He lifted her hands over her head, kissing her again before whispering, “Tell me again you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Myrah, I … “

She felt her orgasm building, intensifying the emotions overwhelming her. She was falling in love with this man and she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to hide it. His thrusts were growing more erratic, signaling to her that he was getting close. His clear blue eyes, grown dark with desire, held her gaze. He was reaching between them to swirl his thumb on her clit as he whispered, “Come for me. I want to watch you come.”

The pressure of his thumb combined with his deep thrusts increased the pressure building up within her until she fell over the edge with a cry. He followed soon after, calling her name. He collapsed next to her, pulling her close. She nuzzled into his chest as he drew lazy patterns on her skin. As much as she felt on edge in the house, she always felt safe with him. He felt like home to her, and that realization actually worried her. What if he wasn’t safe? What if he was just using her?

She started drifting off in his arms, determined not to worry about any of that tonight. Tonight she was just going to savor the safety he offered her. As she was falling asleep, she could almost dream that she heard him whisper to her.

“I love you, little bird.”


	11. Secrets [NSW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrah still feels shitty about what she did to Slater, but he shows her why she might have made the right decision. Vince spends the night and tries to make his feelings known, but can Myrah trust him? A secret art walk takes place, and Slater claims to know some big secret. Has he found out about her past?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @boneandfur for letting me ramble on about these two, and helping me work out insane plot points.

Myrah awoke the next morning, slowly stretching her limbs as the sun streamed in her window. She snuggled further under the covers, sighing with contentment as the strong arm that was circled around her pulled her closer to the firm, warm body behind her. Her breathing quickened as she felt warm lips grazing her shoulder, stubble roughly scraping her skin.

“Mmmm, Vince,” she murmured, delighting in how real this dream felt to her.

She wished she could  _really_  wake up to this every morning, that she could feel what it was like to sleep beside him. She’d always been content to sleep alone, but found herself wishing more and more that she didn’t have to. Vince’s arm tightened around her further, his hand moving up to cup her breast. She moaned lightly, arching back against him. In response, his hips bucked against her, his cock semi-hard. Through the haze of sleep, she thought to herself that this was one of the most realistic dreams she’d ever had. His lips continued to graze along her shoulder, moving to the side of her neck.

“Myrah,” his voice was hoarse from sleep, laced with desire, and  _very_ real.

Her eyes flew open, realization hitting her like ice water. She twisted around, taking in the sight of a sleep-rumpled Vince, eyes still half closed, his curls sticking out at all angles. As much as she wanted to savor this view, she knew it was a bad idea for him to be there.

“Vince!” she whispered, lightly shaking him. “You spent the night here! You have to go back to your room!”

He hummed a response, nuzzling back against her.

“Don’t want to. You’re warm and soft,” he murmured. “And naked.”

He pulled her back down against him so that she was facing him, placing light kisses across her collarbones, down to her chest, capturing one of her rosy nipples in his mouth as he gripped her hips tightly. She couldn’t help but to respond, his touch sending a wave of desire to pool in her core. She pressed herself more tightly to him, her hands fisting in his hair as she gasped at his touch.

“What if we …  _oh my god, that feels so good …_  what if we get caught?”

He pulled back to look at her, his brows furrowed. He had to realize this was a compromising position to be in on Elimination day, especially when he was trying to cultivate a showmance with the one person who had the power to send her home today. She knew his sleep-addled mind had put it together when he threw his head back with a groan, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Fine,” he said, sighing dramatically. “I’m going.”

He moved around the room, quickly gathering his clothes and dressing before moving to sit beside her on the bed. He gently pushed her hair back from her forehead, placing a soft kiss there.

“But I’m not sorry I got to wake up next to you, Myrah.”

He left, quietly slipping out of her room, leaving her there to ponder the meaning of his words. She’d resigned herself to the fact that she’d fallen in love with him. She hadn’t meant to, but her stupid heart was going to do what it wanted, regardless of her intentions. There had been so little love in her life. All she’d ever wanted was for someone to fall in love with, someone who would fall in love with  _her_. She wanted to believe that Vince could love her back. But was him saying that he was glad he spent the night with her the same as saying he loved her? She thought back to the previous night.

_I love you, little bird._

Had she really heard that? Had he really said it, or had she wanted to hear it so badly that she’d imagined it? She sighed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. She needed to stop worrying about this. Tonight was the Elimination ceremony and she needed to get herself dressed and start campaigning to be kept in the competition.

_Ivy better keep her word._

She showered and dressed, meeting up with Jen downstairs. She’d told Myrah about Piper wanting to meet up, and Myrah had insisted on joining her. They were both surprised to learn that Piper was interested in hiring Jen. The two women made their way back to the mansion, Jen debating the idea of leaving AME. Myrah left her alone to think. She had a big choice to make and it wasn’t anything Myrah would be able to really help with. She found Adam sitting out by the pool and walked over to talk to him.

“Are you hiding out?”

“Kinda. I didn’t want to bring the mood down in there, but…”

“But you’re worried about Elimination,” she said, reading the look on his face. She appreciated his concern, but she hoped this wasn’t him still holding a torch for her. She’d tried her best to make it clear to him that what they’d had last season was just some harmless fun, no feelings, no attachments, but she suspected he was still holding out hope that they’d have something more.

“Yeah. How can I be happy for them when you might be leaving?”

The idea hit her hard. He was right. She  _might_  be leaving. Her mind went, as it frequently did these days, to Vince. If she left she probably wouldn’t see him again until the finale. It was unlikely he’d get eliminated before that. Would he move on after she left?

“Any chance this pity party has room for one more?” she asked.

He patted the spot beside him and she took a seat.

“So what do we do now?”

“Well,” she said, thinking about Ivy’s promise, “Elimination is always unpredictable. With all the twists and turns we’ve seen, we can’t really count anyone out yet. So we’ve got to fight until the last second.”

He smiled at her warmly.   
“You’re right.  _If_  the time comes, we’ll go down swinging. And hey,” he continued, “I shouldn’t complain. I may have lost the Challenge but at least I don’t have to go on a date with Ivy!”

She laughed.

“Yeah, right now I’m feeling the same way about Slater.”

She thought back to how cold he’d been to her ever since she’d told him about Ivy’s offer. It was a mistake to tell him. Adam frowned.

“I’d heard rumors about him being a cheater, but the Laser Tag Date sealed the deal.”

Eden chose that moment to walk out and perch on the edge of the pool with them. She was still lamenting having not told Kiana how she felt, so Myrah and Adam took her to the roof to calm her down and give her some pointers on how to confess her feelings. By the time they’d finished up with Eden, Myrah was exhausted. She went down to the living room, curled up on the corner of the couch, and buried her nose in one of her favorite books,  _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland._  She was just getting to the part where the Duchess threw the baby at Alice when Adam, Mackenzie, and Derek came in and joined her on the couch.

“Uh…hey guys. What’s up?”

“It’s Elimination night,” Derek said. “So we’re making a season’s worth of memories tonight.”

“We’re springing you to go to the art walk, so get a move on,” Adam added.

She looked at them incredulously. “You guys know that Carson told security not to let us off the property, right?”

She could tell by the looks they were exchanging that they did  _not_ know that.

“Wait,  _what_?”

Adam was dumbfounded, but Myrah had an idea. She was an expert at sneaking out. She’d done it enough in her life. Her dad probably couldn’t have cared less, but Peter was a hypervigilant older brother, and he did  _not_ like Joaquin. After the second time he’d “forbidden” her from seeing him, she started sneaking out of the trailer at night to meet up with him in the animal enclosures.

“Luckily,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’ve been out and lived to tell the tale. Follow my lead, and we’ll be home free in no time.”

“Well, Jen, Wrenn, and Omar are all busy editing and everyone else is getting ready for the ceremony, so…” Mackenzie trailed off.

Derek finished her thought. “So now is the perfect time to sneak out  _if_ we move fast!”

“Let’s do it!” said Myrah. She’d been cooped up inside that mansion for far too long. She was a rover, a traveler, a grifter. Being in one place this long had left her feeling restless, fatigued. She expected Carson’s crazy shooting schedule, and late nights with Vince, were contributing to her fatigue as well. She lived for moments like this – leaving the beachfront mansion behind to do some outdoor filming … or to sneak out with her friends. The four of them crept outside, heading for the edge of the property. They almost got caught a few times, but finally made it to the gate, only to realize it was locked.

“Now what?” asked Derek.

Myrah rolled her eyes. Some people had obviously never snuck out before.

“We climb over,” she said, cupping her hands to offer Adam a boost over the fence.

“I’m starting to think this isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” he said as he landed on the other side of the fence.

She smirked.  _If only he knew_. One by one, they made their way over the gate, breaking into a run once they’d all made it to the same side of the fence. They didn’t stop running until they’d made it to the tree line, Myrah didn’t see anyone following them, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. They made their way to the artwalk without further incident. Myrah took in the sight, booths lining the street displayed art of all varieties by local artists who were displaying and selling their work.

“Smell the air,” Adam said dreamily. “Do you know what that smells like?”

Myrah sniffed the air, the scent of cinnamon and fried dough reaching her nose.

“Churros?” she guessed, thinking back to the best churro she’d ever tasted.

_She and Joaquin had taken a break from rehearsals that day and decided to go out on a date to the county fair. She’d dragged him to the midway to play the various carnival games and ride the rides, his arm draped across her shoulders on the ferris wheel, his hand on her waist on the pirate ship. She’d snuggled closer to him on the haunted house ride, and they’d talked for hours as they made their way around the midway. He told her his dreams about studying at a university, Ringling or maybe USF, having a normal life with a house and a stable job, and he talked about them settling down together and raising a family._

_Twilight began to descend, the lights of the midway lighting up the cool Autumn night like a spotlight, and they only stopped when they both got hungry, spending too much money on Italian sausages and curly fries. Joaquin had wanted to get something sweet, and while she’d been eyeing the deep-fried Oreos with fascination, she was afraid they’d ensure she wasn’t able to rehearse for a week because of indigestion._

_He’d coaxed her over to the churro stand, buying one for each of them. It was her first time trying them, the golden pastry a perfect compliment to the sweet and aromatic sugar and cinnamon coating. It melted in her mouth, a perfect ending to their meal, and she could still taste it on Joaquin’s lips when she’d kissed him goodnight, dreams of having a family of her own someday, of having some stability, swimming in her head._

“Spray paint?” asked Derek, interrupting her thoughts.

“No,” Adam answered with a smile. “ _Freedom_.”

Ever the cynic, Mackenzie replied, “Let’s not go overboard.”

“I’m just saying we could all use this time to unwind, away from the cameras, and away from the other contestants.”

Myrah didn’t have to question which contestants he meant. She knew he still hadn’t forgiven Vince, and still saw him as a snake.

“I’m down,” said Derek. “I’m just not sure how wild we should get. I mean … we’re technically breaking the rules.”

“After everything we’ve been through in the mansion, I think we deserve to let loose. Besides, the rules are broken whether we hold back or not.”

“ _That’s_  what I’m talking about,” Adam said.

“It’s all about living in the moment,” Derek grinned.

“That attitude is going to land us all in the Jury House!” said Mackenzie

“Okay,” said Myrah in an attempt to appease Mackenzie, “how about this? If it looks like we’re being recognized, we leave.”

Adam, Derek, and Mackenzie nodded their agreement, and the group split up to look at the various booths. Myrah joined each of them, taking in the artwork before she found herself getting tired. As the bright colors and the unique designs began to blur together, she wandered over to a bench to watch as her friends continued to enjoy the artwork.

She caught the scent of something delicious, like toasted bread, following it to a food truck that had cuban sandwiches. She spotted another food truck with arroz con leche and made her way over there to buy some of that to go with the sandwich, then stopped at one of the churro stands. She’d been smelling them the whole time she was at the art walk and knew she really needed one before they left.

She brought her food back to the bench, suddenly incredibly hungry. She devoured the cuban, taking bites of churro in between. The salty-sweet combination was surprisingly satisfying, and once she’d finished off the sandwich she ate her way through the arroz con leche. She looked up to see Adam looking over at her, a strange look on his face.  _The art must be extra confusing in that booth_ , she thought, a giggle threatening to make its way to the surface.

Suddenly, there was a flash of bright light. She looked around and spotted a group of sorority girls taking selfies in front of the artwork. She decided it was a good time for them to head back to the mansion. She was feeling queasy and bloated from all the food she’d just eaten. She brought a hand to her stomach, looking forward to getting back to the mansion so she could take an antacid tab. She felt a pair of eyes on her and noticed Adam staring at her with that strange look on his face again.

“What?” she asked. “Do I have food on my face?”

“Are you feeling okay, Myrah?”

“Yeah, just a little indigestion,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “Why do you ask?”

“That was an interesting meal you had tonight.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I get a lot more cravings for sweet stuff the week before my period.”

“Hm.”

They made their way back to the mansion, going back in the way they came, managing to get back inside without getting caught. They made their way to the back patio for the Elimination Ceremony, Myrah sneaking inside first to grab some antacid. When she got back outside Derek and Mackenzie were making an attempt to comfort Eden. Myrah spotted Ivy off the to the side, off-camera, checking her makeup and spraying what looked like an entire can of Aqua Net all over her teased hair extensions.

“ _Psst, Ivy!_ ” Myrah whispered.

“There’s no need to whisper. The mics aren’t that sensitive,” Ivy said, rolling her eyes.

“Then talk to me. If you’re going to use your Audience Vote power to get Slater out … who else are you eliminating?”

“Bianca,  _obviously_. She’s been dead weight since last season. There’s no point in keeping her around.”

Myrah agreed that Eden was the one who should stay. Before she could say anything more, Slater walked by her, shoulder-checking her as he went.

“Ow! What was that for?”

Slater scowled at her. “Oh,  _sorry_. I only watch my step around people who aren’t  _obviously_  conspiring behind my back.”

“I’m  _not_.”

“Oh, so I guess you two were just having an innocent chat just now?”

“Who’s to say what we’re talking about?” Ivy asked innocently, batting her eyelashes.

“I’m not an idiot. You’re clearly scheming together. We should’ve had that challenge in the bag.”

“Okay,” she said. “You got me. So maybe I’ve got an alliance going. So what? You’d do the same thing in my shoes.”

“Maybe I would, but  _I_  wouldn’t get  _caught._  We’ll see how that play works out for you,  _partner._ ”

“Alright contestants,” Carson’s voice cut through the chatter on the patio. “It’s time to decide which of your Bottom Four will be voted ineligible.”

Once everyone cast their vote, everyone returned to their spot on the patio. Carson made his way to the center of the stage and cleared his throat to get their attention, prepared to reveal the results of the voting. As the seconds ticked by, Myrah felt her heart racing, her chest tightening at the thought that she might have just screwed herself. She held her breath, sparing a glance at Vince. He looked completely calm, save for his right foot tapping the ground like a tipper striking a bodhrán, the only evidence he might be worried about her.

“It’s that time once again, everyone!” Carson turned his thousand-watt smile on the cameras. “That time when the fate of our Bottom Four contestants hinges on the votes of their fellow contestants. Eden, Bianca, would you please step up here?”

Carson pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and began to open it. Myrah was getting nervous, glancing at Ivy and waiting for her to say something.

_Come ON, Ivy. Don’t you DARE go back on your word now._

Finally, Ivy stood up.

“Excuse me Carson, but I believe  _I_ get to decide who stays or who goes tonight,” she said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems Ivy has accepted last week’s Audience Vote!” Carson announced. “And with it, the power to save one contestant in each pair.”

“Thank you for choosing me, America,” Ivy said, playing up her Southern drawl while turning on her pageant-girl smile. “I promise I’ll put this power to good use.”

Myrah rolled her eyes. Of course Ivy was going to make this a production.

“If I can only save one of these two  _talented_  contestants, I pick Eden.”

“Then with Eden declared safe, I’m afraid Bianca has been deemed ineligible. Don’t go anywhere yet, folks, because that’s only our first elimination of the night!”

“Is it just me, or is it a little sadistic how excited he is about this?” Mackenzie whispered.

“Shh!” Vince shushed her, annoyed. “Let the man finish!”

“Myrah, Slater, will you please join me up here?”

It was the moment of truth. She blew out a slow breath, walking up to stand next to Carson. She hoped Ivy would keep her word, but she still found that her hands were shaking.

“Now, before I announce the votes, I believe Ivy’s Audience Vote power allows her to make one of you safe as well.”

Ivy looked at Slater, then at Myrah, and back again, making a show of trying to decide which of them to choose.

“Carson,” she said, “I’m declaring Myrah safe.”

“Oh my god, thank you,” Myrah said, her eyes immediately going to Vince, whose face also showed relief.

“Then that can only mean one thing!” Carson said. “You have been deemed ineligible.”

“What? NO!” Slater said, shocked. “Bro, are you kidding me right now?”

“Slater, if you’d like to say your final farewells,” began Carson.

“Just one,” he said, glowering at Myrah. “You’re always calling the rest of us out on how we play the game, but has anyone taken a good, hard look at  _your_  record?”

“What?”

“You heard me!”

He marched across the stage toward her, his eyes blazing in anger. He was standing just a little too close, his size intimidating as he stood over her.

“You’re not as perfect as everyone thinks, are you? You’ve gotten away with playing dirty so far,” he said, jabbing a finger into her chest to punctuate each word. “But  you will regret. Messing. With.  _Me.”_

The entire set went silent as everyone registered his words. Myrah felt like she might be on the edge of a panic attack, wondering what he could possibly know. She stared at Slater, her mouth hanging open as she heard Jen calling for security to get him off the set. She started to think about all the ways he could possibly have found out anything about her, about her past, about the fire.

She realized too late that she wasn’t getting enough air. She could feel the tell-tale signs sneaking up on her: white spots in her vision, her breathing turning fast and shallow, her heart pounding. She could vaguely hear a voice asking if she was okay before the darkness took hold of her and she lost consciousness.


	12. Let Love In [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Myrah recovers from her panic attack/fainting spell, Adam shows some concern for her health, and Vince and Myrah have an important conversation. Confessions are made and secrets come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m two chapters behind the book in this story, but I promise you’ll forgive my slowness. Eventually. 😉 Enjoy!!

_Myrah’s eyes fluttered open as the acrid smell of smoke filled her nostrils. She smelled charcoal and sulfur, the scent overwhelming her and making her feel nauseated. She looked around the room, trying to get her bearings when she noticed several people standing in the shadows, just out of her vision. She looked around at them, waiting for one of them to notice she was awake, but none made a move toward her._

_“Jen? Mackenzie? Anyone?” she called out._

_Still, nobody answered. As her eyes adjusted more to the darkness in the room she saw they didn’t look right. Their eyes were open and they wore skeletal grins that frightened her. The smell of smoke still hung in the room, though she saw none. And that other smell underneath it, one she’d never forget no matter how long she lived. Burning flesh._

_“Vince?” she called cautiously, panic rising in her._

_She watched as he stepped forward, out of the shadows, crying out as she took in his appearance. His face was burned, half his hair missing. His clothes were black and full of holes, revealing more burned skin beneath. Smoke rose gently from him as though he were burning alive from the inside out._

_“Vince?” she whispered, tears falling as she saw the full extent of the damage. “Please, no. Not you, please not you!”_

_“Why did you let him do it, Myrah?”_

_“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” she sobbed, unable to look any further at the burned remains of the man she loved._

_“But you kept it a secret, and you let him get away with it, didn’t you?” Slater asked stepping forward. His appearance was very similar to Vince’s, muscle showing below burned skin._

_“I … It was my fault. He would never have done it if he wasn’t protecting me. It’s all my fault!”_

_“And now your secret is out, and everyone is going to know who you really are, isn’t that right Myrah?” Slater said with a sneer in his voice._

_“I’m sorry .. I’m so … so sorry,” she could barely breathe, the smoke burning her lungs and throat as she choked out her words between sobs._

_“How could you?” asked Vince. “How could you lie like that?”_

_“I didn’t … know what else t-to do,” she cried._

_“Oh, Myrah,” Vince said. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”_

_He and Slater moved toward her menacingly._

_“Now you have to pay for your secrets.”_

_“It’s a shame, because I could have loved you, Myrah.”_

_It was the last thing she heard before she closed her eyes and tried to scream._

“Myrah.”

She started awake, the nightmare still at the edge of her consciousness. She looked around wildly, trying to figure out whether this was real or still her conscience punishing her for past transgressions.

“Myrah.”

She blinked several times, trying to adjust to the bright lights contrasted with the darkness that surrounded them. Her friends stood at the edges of the lights, in shadow. She had to know if this was real or a continuation of her nightmare.

“ _Myrah!_ ”

His voice broke through her fog, causing her to pause and look at the man who’d been trying to get her attention. He was slightly backlit by the cameras, the illumination creating a halo effect. Even though his face was dimly lit she could see the concern etched across his features. This was no dream.

“Adam,” she breathed a sigh of relief to see him intact, healthy, and alive in front of her.

She pulled him to her, clinging to him as she felt the last waves of her fear dissipate, only to be replaced by confusion. She looked around again, finally noticing where she was.

“What’s going on? Why am I on the floor?”

Adam looked her over carefully, pressing on the back and sides of her neck, frowning.

“You gave us all a little scare by passing out after Slater yelled at you,” he said, continuing his exam. “Does this hurt?”

“No,” she said, as he palpated various areas of her head, face, and neck.

She hadn’t fainted in years. She wondered if it was the stress of Elimination combined with the unforgiving Florida summer heat and the adrenaline crash after they’d snuck out. She was sure it didn’t help that Slater had implied he knew her secret. She thought back to the nightmare she’d had while out cold and wondered if he really knew anything. She shivered at the thought.

“I need to ask you some questions,” Adam said, pulling her back to the present.

“Ask away,” she said.

“What year is it?”

“2018.”

“What’s your name?”

“Myrah Graves.”

“Where were you born?”

She hesitated.

“Myrah? Where were you born?”

“Florida,” she replied.

“And where are you right now?”

“I’m sitting on the floor of a stage in the backyard of a mansion in Miami, shooting the All-Star season of AME. Can I get up now? I  _don’t_ have a concussion.”

She would know. She’d had enough of them over the years. As of now, though, she was embarrassed and tired and just wanted to go to bed after everything that had just happened. Adam was still looking at her with mild concern and curiosity.

“You can get up. Just one more thing, though. Do you faint often?”  
She shook her head. “No. I haven’t had that happen in years. Must be the heat.”

“Hm,” was his only reply, similar to the one he’d given her earlier that night at the art walk.

He helped her up, and she looked around again. She couldn’t help but notice that Vince was glaring daggers at Adam, his jaw tight. She met his eyes for a brief moment, long enough for him to shoot her a look of concern. She nodded slightly at him to let him know she was okay.

“I’m sorry for scaring everyone,” she said. “I think I’ve just had a long day. I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m fine. Really. I’m going to go up to bed now and get some real rest.”

She heard a few voices calling out behind her as she marched back to the mansion, but she was tired and upset and just needed to be in her room and away from everyone. She wished she could have her phone. She wanted to talk to Peter so badly, he was so good at talking her down when she started feeling anxious like this. But instead, she had to calm herself down.

_There’s no way Slater of all people could possibly have found anything out, Myrah. It was all talk. Unless…_  her mind drifted back the art walk earlier that night. If  _that_  was the secret he was talking about … if he knew about that, then she wasn’t the only one who could be in trouble.

She was pacing the room, wondering how she could possibly be both restless and exhausted, her clothes all thrown in a heap on the floor, replaced by a short, silken robe. She’d tried to pull on her sleep shorts, but was still bloated from her dinner and dessert at the art walk, so they were a bit snug, and she figured if she was going to be miserable, she might as well be miserable in comfort.

She didn’t know how long she’d been there before she heard a soft knock at the door. She didn’t want to hope, but there was only one person she wanted to see right now more than anyone else. Only one person she  _needed_  to see tonight.  _Especially after that dream._

“Hello?” she called out, not ready for just anyone’s company.

“It’s me,” his clear, melodious voice said softly.

She ran to the door and threw it open, both of them frozen in place for an instant before she pulled him inside and shut the door behind him. She turned to face him, the expression on his face inscrutable. Their eyes were locked on each other, and there was no mistaking the electricity that passed between them. No sooner had she opened her mouth to say something than she found herself enveloped in his embrace. He’d wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him tightly. His face was buried in her hair and he was muttering something that could have easily been meant for her or himself.

She stroked his back to comfort him, one hand carding through his hair, murmuring soft reassurances to him. He pulled away to look at her, taking her chin in his hands and softly turning her face to inspect for any bruises or cuts. Satisfied, he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“What happened out there?”

“It was nothing. I got a little overheated, haven’t had enough to drink, and … well, you know the  _rest_  of what happened.”

“You sure you’re okay?” his eyes betrayed his concern, brows knit together, that adorable crease he always got between them on prominent display.

“I promise you, I’m okay. Never better. Now,” she said, tracing a finger down his chest, “do you think you should be in here right now? What if you get caught?”

He reached around behind her and turned the lock on the door. He was barely touching her now, but his presence was all-consuming. She could smell his cologne, some amazing combination of amber and oak, a warm scent that reminded her of the autumn in Kentucky, when they’d set up the big top and the smaller tents on a hillside outside of a small town, the air so cold her fingers grew numb while practicing outside.

She was aware of every molecule of air surrounding him, something about his scent pulling her in, making him even more alluring than usual to her tonight. Whether it was the adrenaline from what had happened outside, or the way he’d held her when she let him in the room, it didn’t matter. Whatever this force was, it was pulling her closer to him like a moth to the flame.

She knew this was wrong. She knew he had to be the Devil who kept showing up in the tarot cards, but she didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t deny the attraction, the emotions that alternately threatened to drown her and set her soul on fire. The moment hung between them, the air thick as though their collective breaths had gathered and were dancing together without them.

He closed the space between them, backing her against the door and pressing himself impossibly close to her. He grabbed her waist and lifted her so she could wrap her legs around him. He supported her weight easily, his lips barely leaving her skin as he walked her over to the bed.

“What are you wearing under this?” he asked, tugging at her robe.

She smirked.  “Nothing.”

He groaned, gently laying her down on the bed. He kneeled between her thighs, slowly tugging at the end of the bow in her belt as though we were unwrapping a Christmas present. She bit her lip in anticipation, squirming slightly as he took his time untying the belt and then slowly,  _slowly_  pushing the silky fabric open to leave her bare to him. She knew she was already wet, their encounter at the door leaving her with a feeling of slickness that coated the inside of her thighs. She raised an eyebrow at him as his hands lightly caressed her sides from her hips to her ribcage and just under the curve of her breasts.

“Are you going to tease me all night?” she asked breathlessly.

That smug smirk she always wanted to slap off his face reappeared and he leaned over her, keeping his weight off her as he ghosted his lips over the shell of her ear.

“What if I do, little bird?”

She whimpered, so desperate for him to touch her she was willing to beg. She looked up into his eyes, glimmering with unvoiced laughter. He was still teasing her. Two could play at that game.

“Well,” she said, tapping her finger to her chin, “I guess if you’re not interesting I could just put my clothes back on and catch up on some reading.”

He let out a little growl as he pinned her wrists above her head. She squealed with delight, grinning at him mischievously. Shifting so that both of her wrists were held with one hand, he cupped her face, tracing her cheek with his thumb before slowly gliding his hand down her body starting with her throat, her chest, stopping to cup her breast and gently massage it before tracing it down her ribs, down her waist to her hip bone, then down the back of her thigh before lifting it up and over his hip. He pressed his own hips into hers and she gasped at the sensation of the fabric of his pants against her bare skin.

“ _Myrah_ ,” he moaned, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so unbelievably sexy.”

He was nuzzling into her neck and she was consumed with the feeling of his body on hers, of the contrast of the different textures of his clothes, of his scent.

“You’re not nearly naked enough right now,” she said, her breath catching.

“You know,” he said, “I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for the sex.”

She hesitated, wanting to reassure him it was so much more than that… the late night conversations, his gentle voice when they were alone, the way he would slip her little notes as they passed in the halls … she was in love with him and she was terrified that he was going to break her if he found out. But she was so tired of hiding it.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “The sex is amazing but it’s  _you_. I love you.”

She bit her lip, searching his face for his reaction. For what felt like an eternity, he was dead silent, his expression giving nothing away. The teasing grin was gone and he was just …  _blank_. But then, as though she was watching in slow motion, he broke out in a wide grin, his impossibly blue eyes crinkling at the corners and he pulled her closer to him, peppering her with kisses before burying his face in her hair.

“Say it again, Myrah,” he said, pleading. “I need to know this is real.”

“I love you, Vince.”

She squealed when he enveloped her again, holding her tightly as though she might disappear forever if he let her go.

“I love  _you_ ,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair. “God damn it, Myrah, this wasn’t supposed to happen, but I love you.”

He loosened his grip on her so he could pull back and kiss her properly. She melted into it, her heart fluttering from the kiss but even more from the knowledge that he loved her. He  _really_  loved her. She tried to pour the full force of her emotions into the kiss, willing him to feel the intensity of it. Her hands fluttered to his shirt, fingers trembling as she tried to unbutton it. He helped her, deftly making quick work of it and shrugging it off his shoulders while her hands found purchase on his bare shoulders.

She pressed herself against him, delighting in the skin-on-skin contact. He began to kiss his way down her jaw, to her neck, finding that sensitive spot that made her suck in her breath. He eased her robe off her shoulders, letting it pool around her legs on the bed before he stepped away to remove the rest of his clothes. She reclined back against the ridiculous amount of pillows on the plush bed admiring his naked form, the way the light hit and highlighted his sculpted chest and shoulders, how it washed down his cut abs to that lickable v-line.

She parted her legs, displaying herself to him, as she ran a finger through her folds, her other hand pinching one of her nipples. She watched as he grasped his cock in one hand, stroking it a few times before moving toward her. She began to withdraw her hand in anticipation of what they were about to do, but he stopped her.

“Don’t stop,” he said, his ocean-blue eyes darkened like a stormy sea. “Let me watch you.”

She began to make slow circles over her clit, her hips moving in time with her hands, her breathing coming in short gasps as pleasure coursed through her. His hand continued to stroke his cock in time with her movements until he couldn’t take the teasing anymore, moving up to lay beside her on the bed, rolling her to her side so he could touch her while she continued to circle her own clit. He cupped her breast in his hand, his teeth grazing her ear before moving back down to her neck.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

“I want you. I want  _all_  of you.”

He pulled her on top of him so she was straddling him, allowing her to take the lead. She slowly lowered herself onto him, savoring the feeling of him entering her, filling her up. She’d always felt that they fit together perfectly but now, with their feelings out in the open, the feeling of him was overwhelming, all-encompassing. She reveled in the feel of him, in the way his breathing caught as she began to move her hips, in the way his fingertips skimmed down her throat, her chest, lower, until he’d reached her hips. He gripped her hips, guiding her movements. The pace was slow, sensual, allowing them to just enjoy each other in a way they hadn’t since the night of the prom.

“Myrah,” he rasped, voice filled with an unquenched fire that echoed her own. “ _Fuck_ , Myrah. I… you feel so fucking good.”

She felt the orgasm building within her, a tidal wave that threatened to pull her under, drowning her. She increased the pace, seeking more friction. Vince complied, thrusting upward to meet her, moving his hand between them to allow him to press his thumb on her clit. As he began to draw small circles, she pressed herself closer to him, the pressure inside her building up until it hit her all at once and she fell over the edge with a cry, tears falling from her eyes.

Vince thrust up into her a few more times, his fingers digging into her skin, before he found his release as well. She wasn’t ready to move, and he hadn’t yet loosened his grip on her, so they stayed like that, with her straddling his lap, holding each other tightly as she softly cried on his shoulder while he stroked her hair and murmured soft words. He didn’t say anything about her tears. He didn’t need to. He seemed to understand, on some level, that these were not tears of sadness.

After a while, she finally pulled away so she could look at him. She could feel the tracks of the tear stains drying on her face, roadmaps of unspoken emotion. She was certain she looked a mess – she was an ugly cryer – but he didn’t seem to care. She only saw reflected in his eyes pure, unadulterated love.

“Vince,” she said, her voice still rough and thin from crying, “tell me a secret.”

He’d once told her that he wouldn’t be much of a competitor if he revealed his secrets. She wasn’t sure whether she was testing him or whether it was just the desire to know more than he’d already shred, but she needed this right now. He smiled.

“I told you I have an older brother and sister. They’re only about 11 months apart, so they were super close to each other, but I was so much younger that they really didn’t have a lot of time for me. When I was 7, my older brother was my hero. I wanted to be just like him someday, so I followed him around everywhere. Well, he and my sister got tired of me being their shadow, and decided to do something to get rid of me.”

“What did they do?”

“Frankie, my brother, invited me to go to the arcade with him. I was over the moon, because I never got  _invited_  to do anything with him. So he and Lisa – my sister – both brought me to the arcade and bought me a few dollars’ worth of tokens, then set me loose at the skeeball machines.”

He paused, his brow furrowed and a frown appearing on his face as he recounted the memory.

“Then what?”

“Then they left.”

“They what?”

“They left,” he shrugged, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“They left a  _seven year old_  by himself? What did you do?”

“I figured out about 20 minutes in when I got bored with skeeball and tried to find them that they weren’t there. So I went to the ticket counter and told them my brother and sister left without me and asked them to call my mom.”

“Please tell me they got in trouble.”

He laughed. “Oh, yeah. They got in  _so_  much trouble. But their plan worked. I never tried to tag along with them again.”

“That’s  _awful_!”

“It doesn’t matter now. It was a long time ago. Besides,” he said, “it made me stronger. Every time someone has let me down – and everyone does at some point, Myrah – I got stronger and more self-reliant.”

“So you hurt them before they can hurt you,” she said slowly, feeling like she understood him better now.

“That’s the general idea, yes. Now, I think you need to get some rest, little bird. You’ve had a long day and  I need you to be okay so I don’t have to worry about you, okay?”

She nodded, still thinking over his words. He hugged her again, kissing her temple before helping her move off his lap. He gathered his clothes, dressing quickly.  

“Goodnight, Vince.”

He smiled at her before approaching the door.

“Goodnight, love.”


	13. Up In Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we finally find out what happened the night of the fire. What does Omar know (or think he knows?) How does Vince react when he finds Adam in Myrah’s room? Here’s a hint: not well. A challenge ends tragically and sets off a chain of events that will become more clear very soon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I finally finished Chapter 13 of the saga of Vince and Myrah. Yes, this is the longest chapter yet, but I promise they get shorter from here. This is angsty af and I’m so sorry.

“Slater had some choice words for you during Elimination. ‘You’re not as perfect as they think you are.’ Anything you want to confess? Here and now while you have the chance?” Omar looked angry and Myrah wondered how much he knew. She decided to play her cards close to her chest, choosing not to reveal anything that Slater could possibly have figured out on camera.

“No! I have no idea what Slater meant by that accusation. If you ask me, Slater was just hurt and lashing out,” she said. “Obviously the accusations weren’t true. And people say all kinds of things when they’re upset.”

Myrah answered the rest of Omar and Jen’s questions in the confessional and was getting ready to follow Omar downstairs to join the others when Jen stopped her.

“Hey, how are you holding up after last Elimination?”

“Not bad, though it’s kinda weird now that Bianca’s gone…”

“Right, but…that’s not really what I meant. Now that it’s just us, I have to ask… _was_ there any truth to Slater’s accusations? Did you do something wrong? Break the rules in any way?”

Myrah’s mind immediately started racing. Her throat ran dry as she ran through potential answers. Did she talk about her relationship with Vince? About her past? What about the art walk? She wrung her hands, biting her lip as she considered what to disclose.

“Uh…Jen. I … I kinda snuck out of the mansion.”

“You…you did?! Why?”

As Myrah explained what happened, the look of disapproval on Jen’s face continued to grow. She finally expressed her disappointment, leaving Myrah feeling like a child who’d been scolded by her favorite teacher. She felt a bit better when Jen revealed that she’d won the audience vote. She explained that the Challenge would be a race on a stunt course, leaving Myrah feeling confused as to how it in any way related to being eligible. When she told her that the audience vote would get her an exclusive lesson with Crash Yamaguchi, she knew she had to accept. Peter had a huge crush on the stuntman, and she knew he’d never forgive her if she passed up the chance to meet him.  

“I’m game! I can’t resist anything that’ll give me a leg up on the Challenge!”

Myrah wanted like hell to bring Vince along with her but she knew it wouldn’t be an option, so she instead chose to invite Adam, thinking it would play well with the audience. Jen grabbed him and they were whisked off to what looked to be a movie set that had an obstacle course set up in front of it. They learned they’d be riding go-karts, and Adam got really excited about the prospect. They practiced for over an hour, learning to do tight turns and to jump small hills. Adam seemed to be having fun and, except for the turns making her a bit dizzy, Myrah had a great time, too. Crash was a really down-to-earth guy and she wished she could have her phone so she could’ve video-chatted with Peter. He’d be so jealous.

When they got back to the mansion, Myrah laid down for a while to rest. She felt like the heat and being out in the sun so much was taking its toll on her, so decided a nap was in order. But after tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity, she gave up and decided to go downstairs to see what everyone else was up to. When she entered the living room, she found Vince talking to Carson, the cameras trained on them both.

“…Mackenzie isn’t working out,” Vince was saying, his puppy dog expression turned on Carson.

“Oh? I … Well, you see … I … that is … I don’t think that will be possible,” Carson stammered, clearly surprised at Vince’s appeal.

“I like to think I can get along with just about anyone. But Mackenzie … she’s impossible.”

Myrah knew this was a show, his “villain” persona that existed for the cameras, but it hurt her to hear him talking about her friends that way. Mackenzie didn’t seem pleased either.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“She’s arrogant, rude, self-centered,” Vince continued. “How can you expect me to have a fair shot in the Challenges with a partner who only thinks of herself?”

Myrah saw an opportunity. She’d been Vince’s partner once…if they could convince Carson to switch up the partners again, maybe she could be paired with him again.

“Really, Vince?  _I’d_  be happy to be your partner,” she said with a sly grin. “We’ve already proven we can win a Challenge together. Maybe you could give  _us_  another shot?”

Vince shot her one of his rare genuine smiles. “You make a compelling argument.”

Ivy, however, wasn’t happy about Myrah’s offer. “We all know you hate Vince,” she said. “What kind of game are you playing?”

_Well, at least we’ve got Ivy fooled,_  Myra thought. She resisted a heavy sigh when Adam felt the need to add his own opinion on the matter.

“Please think this over. The only person who benefits from trusting Vince is Vince.”

Myrah thought back to their last conversation, Vince reminding her that everyone lets you down eventually. She couldn’t help but to allow doubt to creep in again, unbidden. She’d been hurt before by trusting too much, so much so that until Vince she’d only let men into her bed, never into her heart. The boy she’d trusted with her heart, the boy she’d fallen in love with and talked about having children with someday, was the same boy who taught her never to trust anyone.

_They were in a small town in Iowa outside of a cornfield where the train tracks crossed and the crows gathered and cawed. The wind-burned trees reached toward the skies, dropping what was left of their leaves like the teardrops of a scorned lover after last call._

_It was their second night in town, the opening night of the show under the big top, and she was thrumming with post-performance adrenaline, itching to get out of the trailer. Her dad was already passed out, a bottle of Jameson tucked securely under his arm as his window-rattling snores echoed through the space. She was sure Peter had already escaped to his room, leaving her to sneak off to the horse enclosure for a late night rendezvous._

_That’s where she found them. Joaquin, the boy she loved and thought she was going to marry someday, with some small-town blonde, fresh-faced and wild-eyed and naked and riding him like he was one of the horses he trained. She could still remember the smell – the musky combination of horses and sex and hay filling the air, the girl’s wanton moans loud and screechy like a bad porno actress._

_For what felt like an eternity she stood there, watching them, unable to move. Peter had warned her that Joaquin wasn’t the right boy for her, but she wouldn’t listen. Right there, in that moment, she was wishing she had. She wished she could have gone back to a time before she’d given her heart away to him because she knew now that it would never be whole again. She swore in that minute she would never trust anyone ever again, never let herself fall in love again._

_Her dad had always told her to never fall for the marks. And she hadn’t. But he forgot to warn her about falling for pretty boys with long hair and scars who would tell you all kinds of pretty lies about the future you two would have together. He forgot to tell her how much it would hurt._

She thought about Vince telling her about his family, opening up and making himself vulnerable to her. No, he wasn’t the man Adam thought he was. He wouldn’t hurt her like that. Not the Vince she knew. That Vince was loving and sweet, and stroked her hair. She refused to think of him in the ways Adam described him. On-camera Vince, meanwhile, was still working on Carson to change up the partnerships again. Unfortunately, he was too good at it and Carson  _did_  institute a partner switch.

“Starting now, Vince will go with Ivy,” Carson announced, a stab of jealousy hitting Myrah like a jolt. She looked at Vince, who was trying to school his face into one of acceptance of Carson’s decision, but she couldn’t hide the hurt she felt knowing Vince and Ivy’s showmance would be able to proceed without any interference now that they were partnered together. She looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes.

“Eden will be with Kiana, Derek with Mackenzie, and Myrah will be with Adam,” Carson finished.

Myrah knew how Vince felt about Adam, and how Adam felt about Vince. How was she supposed to navigate this now? Surely, there was no way Vince would encourage a showman with Adam. She glanced over in his direction and saw he was staring at her, a hopeful expression on his face. She’d let him down gently after last season, but he seemed to still be holding out hope that they’d become more than friends. Omar proceeded to call a cut and began berating Carson for the swap. Jen and Wrenn joined in, only making the situation more awkward and leaving Carson on the defensive. It was a huge mess and the whole afternoon left her feeling anxious and tired.

Myrah ran after Carson, unable to be in the same room as the others anymore. She found him in the hair and makeup room crying. He’d made an excuse about some exfoliating serum causing his puffy eyes, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with not talking about what was going on with him.

“Honestly, I felt a little ganged-up on out there,” he said.

“So you came to hair and makeup?” she asked, confused as to why he chose that room.

“Mirrors soothe me,” he shrugged.

She didn’t want to make him feel like another person was jumping to attack him, but the show was genuinely going off the rails and she’d successfully pep-talked him in the past.

“Carson, you need to get it together,” she said sternly. “You have a show to run! Jobs depend on you, fans depend on you, your  _contestants_  depend on you!”

He instinctively leapt to attention when he heard her tone of voice.

“Of course! Yes! Right away! Just … tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Myrah was flabbergasted. “That’s exactly my point.  _You’re_  the one who should be making those decisions. C’mon Carson. Can’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

She knew it had to be more than him just feeling ganged up on in that moment. Something else was bothering him and she was determined to learn what it was.

“You wanted this job badly enough to sabotage Piper and rig last season’s competition. Weren’t you prepared for this?”

“Everything would be fine if the producers would just fall in line!” he shouted. When she flinched at his tone, he dialed it back. “I don’t get it. Piper screamed at people, fired crew members via Christmas cards, bullied Jen…I don’t do any of those things! So why am  _I_  the bad guy? If anything, they should be thanking me! I’m the one who got her fired!”

“Listen,” she said gently, in the voice she used to reserve for her dad when relaying bad news. “Nobody is saying you’re as bad as Piper. But the producers are angry because they have no say in any decisions. You guys are supposed to be a team, but you keep making huge changes without them, and so they feel ignored.”

“I’m great at teamwork! I was voted ‘Best Smile’ by my college polo team!”

_Of course you were,_  she thought, trying like hell not to roll her eyes at that. But she could use it.

“So how would you feel if the captain of the polo team decided to replace all the horses with llamas right before a big game?”

“I’d feel upset. I’d want to know my voice mattered as a teammate.”

“Exactly! If you can’t trust your captain, there’s no way you’ll be able to work together as a team!”

Carson flopped into the makeup chair with a dramatic groan, tilting his head back.

“I spent all this time trying to be the  _anti-_ Piper. I just want everyone to be happy!”

Myrah talked to him more about communication, on how to listen to his team. He agreed to have a conversation with them and try to work things out. She then went to talk to the producers and listened to their complaints about Carson while reminding them how much better he was to work with than Piper. When she felt like she’d finally appeased everyone, she went back to her room to lie down until filming started. Solving everyone else’s problems was exhausting and she needed a break.

Just as she’d started drifting off to sleep, someone knocked on her door.  _If someone isn’t dying, bleeding, or on fire, they’re going to regret bothering me._  It was Ivy, and she seemed uninjured, so Myrah gave her 30 seconds to explain her presence.

“Hey Myrah, we haven’t had a chance to talk all day,” Ivy said, her accent dialed up to a 10 and her pageant voice activated.

“Uh…no. I guess we haven’t.”  _Unless you count that little stunt in the living room where you told everyone I hate Vince, but whatever, you dramatic, cheating bitch._

“Let’s fix that, shall we? If you’ve got a minute now, I’d love to fix you a drink.”

“Hm. Does this mean we’re friends now?”

Ivy shrugged. “If not friends, we can at least be allies. I mean, look how far we’ve come now.”

“You know what? I do think I’ll take that drink.”

“So what are you in the mood for?”

“Definitely something sweet,” Myrah answered. Since it was clear she wasn’t getting a nap today, she needed  _something_  to keep her awake through the Challenge. Ivy made her an iced tea with muddled mint and lemon. It was delicious, but Myrah was curious about why she chose iced tea.

“It’s a southern classic,” she answered, her eyes searching Myrah. She kept looking down at Myrah’s stomach, leading her to wonder if her shirt had a stain on it or something. She reminded herself to check before filming. “It’s always done right by me, anyway.”

The two women talked for a while, Ivy making it clear she would do everything in her power to get screen time and to play up her fake sob story for the cameras. Myrah could respect that, because at least she knew where she stood with the pageant queen. She still hated her a little bit, maybe even more now that she was going to partner with Vince. When Ivy finally left, Myrah stripped her clothes off and flung herself onto her mattress, determined to get some sleep.

Another knock at the door prompted her to groan and give up on the idea she’d ever get any rest. She flung it open, fully prepared to snipe at whoever was on the other side, only to be greeted by a smiling Adam. His eyes raked up and down her body as he took in her state of undress, prompting a light blush to appear on his face.

“Uh, is this a bad time?” he asked.

She tried her best not to glare at him, asking instead what he was doing there. Before he could answer, she saw Vince walk past, a look of shock on his face as he saw her in little else but her robe and Adam standing in her doorway. Her eyes went wide and she shook her head to let him know it wasn’t what it looked like. His eyes grew stormy, a look of hurt and anger cast over his features. He turned away from her, stalking off toward the stairs. She shouldered her way past Adam to go after him.

“Vince, wait!” she called out, not being heedful of who could hear her. At the moment, she didn’t care. But he didn’t stop, didn’t look back. Adam grabbed her arm before she could run downstairs after him.

“Hey, what do you want to talk to him for?” Adam asked, confused.

“It’s…nothing,” she said, unable to tear her eyes from the staircase, feeling as though her world was crashing down around her.  _Don’t you_ dare _cry over a boy, Myrah Catherine Graves_. “So what did you want Adam?”

“I just came to tell you it’s time to leave for the Challenge,” he said. “Myrah, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

She continued to stare at the staircase, willing Vince to come back, to let her explain that nothing was going on with her and Adam. But he’d drawn his own conclusions from what he’d seen and she would have to deal with it later. For now, she needed to get dressed.  

“I’m fine. Just leave so I can get dressed. I’ll be down soon.”

In the limousine, on the ride to location of the Challenge, Vince chose not to sit with her. He’d sat himself next to Ivy instead, the two of them whispering to each other with their heads close together. Myrah tried to quell the rising anxiety in her chest, telling herself that he was just acting out because he was hurt, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if she lost him now. She’d just opened up to him the night before. Why hadn’t she followed her own rules?

_“Remember this, girl. Those men don’t care about you. Nobody cares about people like us. You gotta charm ‘em and leave ‘em wanting more, but don’t ever fall for a mark. Love makes you weak.”_

_Her dad always gave her advice like that when he’d been drinking just enough – not so much that he was sloppy and mean, but just enough that he got sentimental. When he got to thinking about her mama. He kept a picture of her in a box on a shelf. She’d seen him talking to it sometimes during late nights when he thought she was asleep, and she’d snuck glances at it over the years. Peter looked a lot like her, had her eyes, her nose. Myrah often wondered if the reason her dad was so much harder on Peter was because he looked like their mom. If he wasn’t a constant reminder of the ways she’d hurt him by walking out on them._

Mackenzie was talking to her, but she couldn’t focus on what she was saying. She kept staring at Vince, her mind racing with a million worst-case scenarios in which he used her vulnerability against her, sending her into a tailspin. She was pushing back the tears she felt gathering at the thought, though she could feel her eyes burning. As though he could feel her staring, he looked up at her, their eyes locking. Ivy was still whispering to him but he stopped responding.

It felt like a lifetime passed between them as she tried to silently communicate with him. She could see her own hurt reflected in his eyes until he grew blurry from the tears she could no longer hold back. She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning forward to avoid showing anyone this moment of weakness. When Mackenzie asked her what was wrong, she simply mumbled, “headache.” She didn’t raise her head again until the limo stopped moving.

“I thought this was supposed to be a movie stunt challenge!” said Ivy. “What are we doing at the beach?”

“This is just the start!” Carson announced. “Today’s Challenge will stretch all the way from this beach to a super-special stunt course, built just for us.”

Carson pointed to the end of the beach, where Myrah could see the stunt course she’d visited with Adam earlier.

“You and your partner will race to the finish line in these top-of-the-line,  _adorable_  go-karts! Once you reach the course, you’ll get special instructions on how to complete it from none other than Hollywood stuntman Crash Yamaguchi!”

They all cheered as Crash came running onto the beach, waving cheerfully. He winked at Myrah.

“‘Sup, Myrah?”

_Oh, Peter is going to be SO jealous when he sees this footage._

She wondered if he was able to watch the show from Monaco. She hoped he was staying safe there, that he hadn’t gotten himself arrested or killed.

“As I was saying, Crash will wait at the finish line to determine our winners. But there’s also a catch!” Carson said excitedly. “You can’t win unless both members of your team cross the finish line at the same time.”

“Yes! Co-op challenge! I’m  _so_  ready for this!” Kiana squealed.

“I wish I could say the same,” Vince interjected in his pompous “villain” voice. “What on  _earth_  does this have to do with being eligible?”

Myrah couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly the same thing she’d said earlier to Jen when she learned what the Challenge was going to be.

“Isn’t it obvious? It has  _nothing_  to do with being eligible.”

She was rewarded with a small upturn of Vince’s lips before he remembered where they were and that he was still upset. He frowned at her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say something inane about how this challenge was about  _friendship_  and  _teamwork_ ,” he said.

“Don’t be a jerk, Vince,” said Kiana, jumping to Myrah’s defense.

“Don’t take it personally, Myrah,” said Adam. “Vince doesn’t know the first thing about friendship  _or_  teamwork.”

“Aren’t there safer ways to demonstrate teamwork?” asked Ivy.

“Don’t sweat it,” said Crash. “Carson made sure everything was up-to-code, right man?”

“Uh…right,” said Carson in a way that made Myrah nervous. She was fairly sure he  _hadn’t_ made sure everything was safe based on his answer. “Everyone get in your go-karts and let’s get this show on the road!”

Myrah met up with Adam at the starting line, where Jen was waiting with their go-karts. After asking if they were ready for this, she left them with their karts and went on to talk to Derek and Mackenzie. They heard Carson clear his throat.

“Drivers! Be ready on my count. Three … two … one … GO!”

Myrah slammed her foot on the gas pedal, feeling the go-kart lurching forward as she sped ahead of the other contestants. As they all sped along the shoreline, sand and saltwater sprayed into the air. Myrah could feel the wind whipping at her hair, could hear the waves crashing just beyond the shoreline as the water lapped at her tires. She felt like she was flying, the salt air stinging her face in a not-unpleasant way as she tore across the beach. She and Adam were neck-and-neck with Derek and Mackenzie, with Ivy and Vince close behind.

“Watch yourself, Myrah, we just might beat you this time!” Mackenzie called to her.

“Wouldn’t count on it!” she shot back with a grin.

Moving her eyes back to the course in front of her so she didn’t crash into a pelican, she could see a small slope up ahead in the sand.

“Let’s jump it!” Adam shouted.

“Are you crazy? You guys should go around!” Derek called out.

Myrah found herself on top of the slope before she knew it, needing to make a last-minute decision. She decided to go for the jump. It wasn’t big enough to do any damage, and she knew it was safe. She increased her speed and raced to the crest of the slope, flying through the air, her hair flying behind her as she became airborne for a moment before she and Adam landed with a thud.

“That was  _awesome!_ ” she shouted.

“Glad you took my advice,” said Adam, laughing.

Before long, they reached the stunt course at the end of the beach. As her tires left the sand and hit the pavement, she could hear Vince behind her, jeering.

“Prepare to lose your lead, Myrah,” he said with a cockiness that always made her want to slap him. He was  _too_  good at playing a villain. So good that Myrah sometimes found herself wondering what he was like outside of the show.

“In your dreams,” she called back at him, feeling suddenly competitive, suddenly  _wanting_  him to lose, and badly.

She could hear Crash cheering and shouting instructions on the sidelines.

“First, I want to see your best 360 degree turn,” he shouted to the contestants.

Myrah hit the gas, starting to make tighter and tighter turns until she felt the steering wheel lock. She hit the gas, maneuvering the go-kart in a perfect 360 degree turn, Adam doing exactly the same beside her. She silently thanked the audience for choosing her that week as she heard Crash talking about how perfect their form was. She glanced behind her when she hear Ivy shouting at Vince for making them both look bad. They were struggling to get into sync just as Eden and Kiana finally skidded on to the stunt course.

“Looks like two of our teams are ready for the last hurdle … jumping the ramp!” called out Crash.

Myrah eased off the gas so she and Adam could race toward the ramp on the other end of the course. She felt excitement coursing through her, convinced they were going to make first place. They sped toward the ramp.

“Adam, I think we might win this! Remember, the trick to sticking the landing is keeping your wheels straight!” she called out to him.

“I hear you loud and clear,” he said.

She felt a surge of adrenaline as she raced up the ramp. There was a split second when the wheels of the go-kart left the ramp that her stomach dropped. She started feeling light-headed and there was a heaviness in her limbs. She tried to push the feeling down, explaining it away as the effects of her earlier tiredness and the adrenaline spikes she’d been feeling this afternoon. As she approached the ground again, her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She put all her energy into keeping the wheels straight as she and Adam touched down with a loud thud, their tires hitting the concrete in a perfect landing.

“Yeah, baby!!” shouted Crash.

“Ready to finish this?” asked Adam.

“You know it,” she answered.

She pressed down on the gas pedal, taking off to the edge of the stunt course where Carson and the producers were waiting.

“It looks like Team Myrah-Adam are making their way to the finish line!” announced Carson. “This is thrilling!”

“Go, Myrah!” shouted Jen.

“Go, Adam!” Omar called out.

The two of them pulled far ahead of the others, faster and faster, Myrah’s hair being whipped around her face by the wind. She felt flush, her entire focus on the finish line, until both she and Adam crossed it, side-by-side.

“We did it! We won!” she whooped, jumping out of her go-kart.

“And can I just say? You two  _seriously_ know how to make a teacher proud,” Crash said, hugging Myrah tightly.

As Derek and Mackenzie finished up the race, they all gathered together at the finish line waiting on the others.

“Good hustle, guys,” said Myrah.

“Back at you,” said Mackenzie. “I haven’t been that excited in  _forever_.”

Carson strode over to the group, beaming.

“That was  _spellbinding,_ ” he said. “We’ll wait for our other contestants to finish, of course…”

As if on cue, Vince came soaring over the ramp, speeding toward the finish line, muttering to himself. Myrah had to jump out of the way of his kart as he skidded to a stop. Ivy flew over the ramp moments later, wearing a scowl that twisted her normally pretty features.

“You couldn’t have waited three seconds, Vince?” she shouted at him as she exited her go-kart.

“Why? We already  _lost_ ,” he said harshly.

“So what? The point was to finish the race  _together_ ,” she argued back.

“Ivy, you need to relax. Vince is right, you wouldn’t have won either way.”

“Thank you, Myrah.”

“Who asked you?” Ivy barked at her.

Before she knew it, the group had started a shouting match with each other. She backed away, not wanting to be involved. Crash pulled her aside.

“This went from 0 to 100 pretty quick!”

“Welcome to AME,” Wrenn said, their face showing how tired they were.

Omar rounded on the group.

“Look, people, this is great footage, but do you think you could hold it until  _after_  the Challenge?”

They suddenly heard Kiana shouting for Eden to slow down.

“I can’t!” Eden shouted back. “The brakes aren’t working!”

The group stopped arguing as they all turned to see what the commotion was. Myrah watched in horror as Kiana and Eden’s go-karts when careening toward each other, until they crashed with a sickening sound of twisting metal.

“Everyone down!” Jen called out to the group.

Myrah stood frozen, staring at the scene. Adam went to grab her just as Vince did, pulling her into him as he and Adam stood in a momentary standoff, both staring the other down. She clung to him, which led to Adam giving up. Vince covered her with his body as they dropped to the ground together. Just as he did, there was a loud explosion from behind them. Myrah felt the heat, heard pieces of plastic and metal hitting the ground around them as she clutched at Vince’s t-shirt. She couldn’t stop shaking. Vince held her tightly in his arms, shielding her with his own body. He was whispering to her, quiet words of reassurance even as her heart thundered, fear for Kiana and Eden racing through her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, the heat and smell of flames triggering a memory to play in front of her eyes, unbidden.

_“Myrah, come out, we have to get out of here, now!”_

_Peter was pulling her out of the closet she’d hidden herself in when the fight started. He was bruised and bleeding._

_“Peter, what did he do to you?”_

_“It doesn’t matter, baby girl, we have to go!”_

_“But…”_

_“Now, Myrah!”_

_She followed him as he led her out of the trailer, spotting a glimpse of her dad’s legs behind the kitchen counter as they ran out the door. That’s when she smelled it … the smoke._

_“What did you do?”_

_“He’s never going to hurt you again, my little diamond.”_

_“What did you do, Peter?!?”_

_“I did what I had to!”_

_She sobbed, realizing he’d done it to protect her, that her brother had killed their father. The two of them stood there, Peter holding her while she cried, as they watched their home go up in flames, their father inside._

She couldn’t stop the tears that the memory brought forth. Vince, probably assuming she was afraid, began stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth. If he was still angry with her, it was certainly on hold for now while they were in the middle of this crisis.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

They stood and turned to survey the wreckage, seeing plumes of smoke rising from the two totaled go-karts.

“Oh my god, Eden and Kiana!!”

She vaguely heard someone shouting for medics, and someone else saying they were going to call 9-1-1. Beside her, Omar was yelling to cut the cameras as the producers rushed to Eden and Kiana’s aid. She heard people talking, but it was as though they were underwater. She looked at Vince, feeling lightheaded again. She saw his lips moving, but no sound coming out of his mouth. And then, suddenly, as though crashing into her like a wave, she could hear every sound around her. She turned to Carson.

“Carson…what are we gonna do?”

Carson appeared to be in a daze.

“I … I …. I never meant for something like this to happen.”

She looked around at everyone running around, spurred into action. Vince was still close to her, protectively hovering. She noticed Adam staring at them.

“Adam? What’s wrong?”

He slowly shook his head, a look of abject betrayal on his face.

“Everything.”


	14. The Devil's Playground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AME is on hiatus after the crash, and Vince is still avoiding Myrah. Their proximity to her hometown means they get some anonymity for the show, but it also means Myrah is fighting with the skeletons in her closet. A trip to the hospital goes awry, and Myrah gets a big wake-up call.

It had been a week since the chaos of the last shoot. A week since the crash that landed Eden and Kiana in the hospital and off the show. A week since everything had gone wrong between her and Vince. He’d been so protective of her during the crash, hadn’t left her side for the rest of the day. But by the next day he’d retreated back into himself, shutting her out, glaring any time he saw Adam in her vicinity. She’d shut herself up inside her room in the hotel they’d been staying at in Tarpon Springs.  _Which is a punishment in and of itself_ , she thought.

It wasn’t exactly a luxury getaway. Tarpon Springs used to be a nice, quaint little town, but it had become a tourist trap in recent years and she hated seeing what it turned into when she knew how it used to be. She was also nervous about how close they were to home.  _Home, indeed._ It hadn’t really been home in years, not since she’d done the same as Peter and had run off to try to make her own way in the world. They were easily an hour away and she knew she was unlikely to run into any of the rest of the town’s residents here, of all places, but the proximity still made her nervous.

The show was on hiatus while an investigation was being made into the safety of the set, and with the press camped out in front of their mansion, they couldn’t go back there.  _It’s a shame. Vince and I can finally have some damn privacy and he’s chosen now to be a horse’s ass._

Things weren’t going great for her right now, either. Myrah hadn’t just spirited away to her room to avoid Vince and Adam. Jen had showed her the tabloid cover with a picture of her at the art walk. She also still felt like hell. Whatever this was that was plaguing her, she couldn’t seem to shake it off. It felt like she might be coming down with the flu, but it seemed to be coming and going, like her body couldn’t decide whether or not to get sick.

She was sprawled across her bed, mindlessly clicking through channels on the television in the room. She was restless, and every passing moment, the loud ticking of the ugly clock on the wall, signaled another small piece of her heart turning back into ice.

Though Vince had managed to melt some of it, every moment he stayed away broke her just a little bit further, made her realize her rules about love, the rules that were there for a reason because  _love isn’t something that happens to people like us, girl_  … those rules should never have been broken. She should never have trusted him with her heart.

When a knock sounded at the door, she wiped away the tears that had been flowing too freely, deciding to hold off on admonishing herself for crying and sprang to the door in the hopes it might be him, come to admit the error of his ways and beg her to take him back. When she saw it was only Adam, she couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“Oh, hey. What’s up, Adam?”

He looked at her in that same strange way he’d been looking at her since the night of the art walk. Like she was fragile and might break at any second.

“Myrah? Have you been eating? Sleeping?”

She held back a frustrated huff. “I’m fine. Why are you so damn worried about me all the time?”

“Have you  _seen_  yourself lately? You’re so pale. And you look like you’ve lost weight. You should be gaining weight at this point…”

He stopped, realizing what he’d said. She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about, confused about why he thought she should be gaining weight.

“What are you talking about?”

Adam looked like he was ready to dart any minute. She could see the emotions warring on his face as he opened his mouth and closed it again, starting to talk before stopping himself. She’d had enough. She walked closer to him, standing toe-to-toe and glared at him. She wished she wasn’t so much shorter than him, but she was doing her best to be intimidating. She poked him in the chest as she spoke.

“Tell me what the  _fuck_  you’re talking about, Adam.”

His eyes grew wide in surprise, but he schooled his expression into a more neutral one before answering.

“Myrah, when is the last time you remember having your period?”

“What the hell kind of question is that??”

“Why do you think you passed out at the last Elimination? Why do you think you haven’t been feeling good? Why do you think you’ve been so emotional?”

“I’m getting sick.”

“You’re not sick, Myrah,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “It might be so much easier if you were.”

“What are you saying?” she asked softly.

“You… you’ve been seeing Vince.”

It was more a statement than a question. She was certain after the last Challenge, Adam had figured it out. She nodded.

“How long?”

“I…” she trailed off, guilty, suddenly worried about his reaction.

“ _How_.  _Long_?”

“Since…the first week.”

He looked at her like she’d struck him. The betrayal, the hurt, in his eyes pierced her armor, just enough to make her regret her honesty. She felt as though all the air had left her lungs in that moment, like the earth would open below her and swallow her whole, dragging her down to the depths of hell where she surely belonged after breaking such a good man as Adam.

But that was just the problem.

He was a good man, but she was  _not_  a good woman. He wouldn’t –  _couldn’t_  – understand her, what she’d been through. Maybe nobody really could, but Adam certainly deserved better. He deserved someone to love who would love him in return, who would give him the family and the home he’d always wanted. She wasn’t bred for that kind of life. She was only good for one thing, and that was surviving. A man like Adam would never be able to see that.

“Look, just… I came to tell you that Kiana and Eden got cleared to have visitors. Did you want to go see them?”

She nodded.

“I’d like to see how they’re doing. Is  … anyone else coming?”

A look she couldn’t read passed over his face before he answered.

“You and me, Wrenn and Jen. Omar is checking with Vince and Ivy to see if they want to go. Derek and Mackenzie decided to stay here. Derek still has a cold and Mackenzie says she hates hospitals.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to ignore the anxious feeling creeping into her chest again at the thought of how much time Vince had been spending with Ivy lately. “I’ll meet you downstairs?”

He nodded and turned to go, turning back to her once more before she closed the door completely.

“Myrah, just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“Just … just know that I’ll always be here for you. I mean, in case…” he trailed off, his eyes traveling down to her stomach and back up again. “In case you ever need help. With anything.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Myrah to ponder his words. He’d been acting so strange lately, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he was so suspicious of Vince.

When she made her way to the lobby of the hotel, she noticed Vince and Ivy were not with them. Omar informed them that they’d each chosen to stay behind. She couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t like they were close to Kiana or Eden, but it would’ve been nice to have seen him.

They made the drive to the hospital Kiana and Eden had been transported to in Tampa, Wrenn and Jen doing most of the talking. Adam was sullenly looking out the window, only sometimes answering a question. Myrah’s mind was elsewhere, mostly on the fact that they were rapidly approaching her hometown.

As Wrenn merged onto I-275, she started to grow nervous again, unable to control the shaking in her hands. Adam must have noticed because he was looking at her with concern. She knew the townies never really left except for the occasional excursion to get away, or when they were traveling for work, but she also knew how close Tampa was to Gibtown, and she didn’t want her two worlds to collide. Not now. Not like this.

_“We don’t much like outsiders here,” Lulu had told her once. “Your mama was an outsider. Look where that got your daddy.”_

_She knew her mama wasn’t a local but didn’t know much about her, other than that she’d left them one day._

_“How did he meet her?” she wondered._

_“They were working a circus together. Up near Daytona. He was a sideshow act and still did some clowning back in those days. You already know that your mama was a trapeze artist, like you. They met during the big tent setup. They both traveled with that circus that year and it meant they spent a lot of time together,” Lulu sighed. “Some days I wish to the heavens he’d never married that woman. But he brought her back here to our town, and you know that ended.”_

_Myrah did know. She knew it all too well. It ended with her mama walking out on them and never looking back._

They arrived at the hospital, finding the correct room and peeking their heads in.

“Hey,” Myrah said. “Up for some visitors?”

“ _So_  ready for visitors,” said Kiana. “We’ve missed you guys!”

As sweet as that was, Myrah was still worried about the two. Kiana’s leg was set in a long cast, obviously broken. Both of Eden’s arms were wrapped, she guessed to protect the skin that had been damaged by the burns. Her stomach twisted at the thought of the scars that would be left.

“You guys, I’m so…”

“Oh no, you don’t, Myrah. Sorry isn’t happening. Not here, not now, not ever. It isn’t as bad as it looks.”

As they continued talking about the accident, both Eden and Kiana recounting what they remembered, Myrah found herself growing lightheaded again. She heard the women’s voices, but it again sounded like they were coming from underwater. She tried to walk out into the hall to get some water, hoping that it would steady her some, but that seemed to be a bad idea because her entire body suddenly felt very heavy, as though she were wearing a weighted vest that had become drenched with water.

She could hear voices behind her, felt someone grab her shoulder. She was intensely aware of her senses dulling, the feeling of heaviness increasing and her breath quickening until darkness enshrouded her, pulling her under. The last thing she remembered was all the color draining from the world around her.

Myrah blinked awake in a strange room, trying to get her bearings. There were beeping noises coming from somewhere in the distance, and an IV in her hand. She looked around the room, taking in the white walls, a whiteboard near the door that had a bunch of scribbled information she couldn’t really read, formica cabinets which held a variety of things she couldn’t identify, and a small table on wheels next to her bed that held a small plastic cup with water and chipped ice, a bendy straw sitting inside it. She thought back to the last thing she remembered. She was talking to Kiana and Eden and then the next thing she knew, she was waking up in a hospital bed.

“Hello?” she called out, finding her throat surprisingly dry and scratchy. Wondering to herself how much time had passed, she reached for the cup, taking a small sip of water while trying not to drip the condensation on her shirt. She wasn’t in a hospital gown, so she guessed it hadn’t been too long since she …  _what the hell did happen? Did I pass out again?_

“Hello??” she called louder this time.

A nurse wearing the brightest shade of neon pink scrubs Myrah had ever seen popped into the room, smiling at her warmly.

“I see someone’s finally awake!” she said with a drawl, sounding entirely too peppy. Myrah resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Um, hi. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, sweetheart, you passed out in the hallway, so we’re gettin’ some fluids in ya. Now that you’re awake, we’re gonna finish up that IV and then get you changed into a gown, okay sweetie?”

“Wait, why?”

“We’re gonna admit you overnight. Just for observation. Your handsome friend out there told us this is the second time this has happened in a couple weeks, so we’re gonna run some tests.”

“But I can’t afford…”

“That nice lady you came with says the bill is all taken care of, so you got nothin’ to worry about with that.”

Myrah nodded, resigned. Maybe they could figure out why she was always feeling so worn out lately.

“Are they still here?”

“They sure are, darlin’. You want me to send ‘em in for ya?”

“Please.”

The nurse nodded and left, coming back with Jen and Adam. Adam hung back to talk to the nurse while Jen explained that Wrenn was calling back to the hotel to let Omar know what happened. She saw the nurse glance her way, then nod back at Adam before leaving the room again. They had a brief visit before another wave of exhaustion washed over Myrah. She felt her eyes fluttering closed and, despite her best attempts to stop it, a huge yawn escaped her.

“I think we need to leave Sleeping Beauty here alone for now,” Jen said.

Adam had lost his earlier aloofness and was fussing over her, making sure she was drinking water, fluffing her pillows, asking if she was comfortable before Jen finally convinced him to go.

“Adam, wait.”

Myrah knew she had no right to ask this of him, but since he knew her secret, she felt like he was the only one she could turn to with this. He stayed by her side while they waited for Jen to leave the room.

“Do you… do you think this might be something serious?” she asked, finally giving a voice to the worry that had been plaguing her for a while now. She was nervous, searching his face for some clue.

“Oh, Myrah,” he said, pushing her hair back off her face and cupping her cheek. “This… Keep in mind I’m not a ‘people’ doctor, but if this is what I think it is, it’s … you … you’re going to be great.”

The look on his face took her breath away for a moment. It was pure, unadulterated love.  _Why couldn’t I love him back?_  she wondered, guilt stabbing her through the heart again. She grew suddenly wary of asking him what she really wanted to ask him, but she wanted him to find out on her terms.

“Can you tell Vince? Just that I’m here. He … I know he doesn’t want to see me right now. He got the wrong idea when he saw you in my room back at the mansion and … Just … can you tell him?”

Her cheeks burned at her admission, shame and embarrassment running through her from having to make herself vulnerable to him, but she trusted him to do as she asked. He always wore his emotions on his face, and now was no exception. She knew this was making him uncomfortable, that he didn’t want a reason to have to talk to Vince, and especially not about her. He leaned in and kissed her on her forehead.

“You deserve so much better than him, Myrah.”

“Please, Adam?”

“I will.”

She thanked him, waiting until he walked out the door before she allowed herself to feel any bit of self-pity. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish by having Adam tell Vince she was here, but she hoped maybe he’d at least call to check on her. She replayed her conversation with Adam, wondering what he meant when he said she was going to be great.

_Could he mean…_  Myrah sat up with a gasp, mentally counting the days since her last period. It had been a week before she’d arrived on set.  _Stupid, Myrah. You’re so stupid! Why didn’t you see it?_

All the signs were there … the salty-sweet food cravings, the tiredness, the fainting. She was suddenly transported back to a rehearsal when she was 16, when she was still performing with Loretta’s family.

_Loretta was perched on the trapeze, swinging idly back and forth while waiting for Rafael to set up the catch. Once he was in place she prepared to arc the trapeze, swinging wider and faster in preparation to launch herself at her brother. But as she stood on the dowel, all the blood drained from her face. Myrah could see it from the platform, could see the moment Loretta started falling backward._

_She screamed, seeing crimson begin to spread on the spandex of Loretta’s costume. She was scared to death that something bad had happened during the fall. As she scrambled to climb down the ladder of the high platform, time seemed to slow down to a crawl, everything happening around her as though in slow motion. Loretta’s dad and brother Zack had pulled her off the safety net and were carrying her out to drive her to the hospital. Myrah could do nothing but watch in horror as her friend’s body was carried off, limp and bloody._

_She’d found out later that Loretta had been pregnant, and the hard fall had caused a miscarriage. Loretta wasn’t herself for a while after that. She was withdrawn, sullen, not at all like the girl Myrah had known her whole life. She’d even stopped speaking to Tulsa, the young clown-slash-roadie she’d been dating behind her family’s back, the boy who was surely the father._

_Myrah helped Loretta through that time, had stayed by her side even when she refused to leave her bed or speak to anyone. Day by day, she began to return to the girl she used to be, until one day she finally smiled again. Myrah would never forget that day, how special it was. That was the day she finally got her best friend back._

She groaned, the proximity to Gibtown making her think about those days entirely too frequently. She wanted to get out. Out of this hospital bed, out of Tampa, out of Florida altogether. She was going stir crazy, in fear constantly of someone finding out something about her while she was this close to the place she’d called home for so long.

But it wasn’t her home anymore. The only place that had felt like home for a very long time was in the arms of a man who wasn’t currently speaking to her, and it hurt like hell.


	15. Skeletons [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrah starts to wonder whether Vince has just been conning her, but soon realizes that she can’t stop her feelings. We learn more about Vince and why he is the way he is. Myrah makes a phone call and gets a late night visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, y’all Vince and Myrah are back and they can’t seem to figure shit out on their own because they’re both stupid. SO VERY STUPID. It’s a good thing they’re both hot, because DAMN. Also, we’re finally finished with chapter 11. 
> 
> Thanks to @boneandfur for listening to my hesitations and for suggesting a phone call rather than an existential crisis.

Myrah’s eyes fluttered open, a vase full of sunflowers and greenery staring back at her. Frowning, she pulled herself up to a sitting position so she could get a closer look. There was a card attached, a handwritten message scrawled across it in fountain pen. She couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face and the small thrill that ran through her as she reached for it, certain that Vince had finally come to his senses. But the excitement was dampened when she read the card.

_Get well soon, from your friends in the cast and crew of AME!_

She dropped the card onto the table, dramatically flopping back into the thin pillow on the hospital bed. If Vince was going to act like a child, so could she. Still, she felt like there was a lead weight on her chest, and her heart felt like it was being torn in half. Aly, the nurse in the neon pink scrubs, popped her head in the room. Myrah thought the woman must be on drugs, because  _nobody_ was that happy all the time.

“Hey, darlin’! How are we feeling today?”

_Like my entire world is crashing down around me. Like I might just give up on this stupid show and run away to New York like Peter did._

“I’m doing okay, thanks for asking. Just tired and a little sick.”

“Some of that is the dehydration. You need to eat.  _Regular meals_ ,” Aly said, cutting her off before she got a chance to protest that she  _had_ been eating. “And you need to be sure to get plenty of fluids, especially in this heat.”

Myrah nodded. She knew she’d not been taking care of herself since the crash. She just hadn’t realized before now that she’d had a bigger reason to.

“And besides,” Aly continued, flitting around the room, opening the curtains to let light in and throwing away the empty plastic cups that had held water, “that little baby of yours is gonna need the nourishment to stay healthy and strong!”

Myrah flinched at her words, still not ready to process the fact that she was staring impending motherhood in the face. She didn’t know the first thing about children, didn’t even know if she was cut out to be a mother. And what about Vince? How was she going to tell him something like this? How would he even react?

“Aly? Do you know when I’ll be able to get out of here?”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’, they’re gonna discharge you today. You’ve been a very popular lady for being here less than 24 hours.”

“What do you mean?”

Aly gestured to the flowers.

“Those are expected. You’ve had a young man calling us about you a dozen times since last night.”

“Really?” she asked, sitting back up again. “Who was it?”

“His name was Adam. Wasn’t he that handsome man who was with you when you came in yesterday? Ohh, wait a minute,” she said, excitement etched on her face. “Is  _he_  the father??”

“ _No_ ,” Myrah answered firmly. “No, he’s … just a friend.”

_So no call, no flowers, no visit…Myrah, what exactly were you expecting?_ She thought back to the first night he’d told her he loved her, how sweetly he’d held her as she was drifting to sleep.  _How can he love me and act like he doesn’t care?_  Bitterly, she thought back farther. To their conversation about how he was all about the “mind game.” Is that what this all was to him? Was he playing mind games with her? Get her to fall in love with him and then destroy her? She couldn’t handle the thought that this was all an act. A grift. A con.  _I guess this is karma_ , she thought,  _for all those men I conned._

* * *

Vince sat at the hotel bar, a tumbler of scotch held in both hands. He stared into the amber liquid, observing how it reflected the gaudy neon lights twisted into the shapes of palm trees and flamingos and hung low on the walls. They’d been trapped in this godforsaken town for too long, a tourist trap with what seemed to be a storied history that was all but lost to the kitsch and the trappings of what could only be described as a Greek fishing village-themed carnival. Every other building was full of cheap replicas of antique diving helmets, fishing nets that would never see water, and carved wooden caricatures of sea captains. Everywhere he went smelled like seawater and dead fish, and all he wanted to do was run, fast and far, away from this city, away from this state, away from the pain he was feeling.

Instead he was sitting in a tacky hotel bar in a tacky little town drinking overpriced alcohol to drown out the fact that he’d driven away the one person he cared about…the one person who’d cared about  _him_. He sighed, licking his lips before raising the glass back to them to take another drink, the scotch burning pleasantly as he swallowed it down. He glanced out the window, watching the sky take on gradated hues of purple, pink, and yellow as the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico, the tall, skinny palm trees silhouetted against it like a goddamn Bob Ross painting.

When Omar had made the announcement the day before about Myrah being in the hospital, it took every ounce of his restraint not to demand that Omar or one of the crew drive him to Tampa to see her. He’d had to remind himself that their relationship was supposed to be a secret, something between the two of them that he wouldn’t let be exploited for the sake of the cameras and for ratings. Their relationship had surprised him.  _She’d_  surprised him. He’d expected to hate her, for her to hate him because of what he’d done to Adam during their season.

But when they’d danced together in the first challenge, there was an attraction there he couldn’t deny. And the way she’d been looking at him told him she felt the same way. He started slipping her notes, small snippets of poetry he’d written, romantic fluff that meant nothing in the hopes he could exploit her feelings as a weakness, could get her to form an alliance with him that he’d be able to use to win the game. But somewhere along the way, he’d started caring about her. Their late night conversations on the balcony, the secrets they shared, the way she made him feel safe and  _loved_. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t felt loved, truly, unconditionally  _loved_  since his mother had died almost a decade earlier.

And yet, while the woman he loved was alone and probably frightened in some hospital in Tampa, he was drinking his feelings away. He wanted nothing more than to rip his contract up, to run to her, hold her, and tell her how sorry and how stupid he’d been. When he saw Adam in her room, with her half-dressed, he’d immediately jumped to the obvious conclusion. He’d tried like hell to quell the jealousy, the uncertainty that kept rising like bile in his throat, but all he could think about was  _Nessa._

Vanessa had been his high school sweetheart, his first love, the girl he’d proposed to when they were in college. She was everything his younger self wanted. Kind, caring, funny, and beautiful. They’d started spending less and less time together in their sophomore year because of their different majors, and because of her busy sorority schedule. Still, it was college and they were going to have times that they’d be too busy to see each other, and they had all the time in the world to spend their lives together once they graduated.

He’d been able to convince himself of that right up until the night he’d seen her at a fraternity party, sitting on another guy’s lap, kissing him, his hand sliding up her thighs. He’d confronted her and she cried, apologized, swore it was only  _one time_  and that it would never happen again, but it did. It continued to happen over and over again until he realized she was never going to change. He broke up with her and called off the engagement, but didn’t say anything to his family right away. He’d always been the big disappointment in the family, the one who couldn’t live up to his father’s standards, and a broken engagement was just another embarrassing reminder of what a failure he was.

Since then, he’d never let himself be put into a position where he could be hurt. He’d kept relationships casual, never letting them last long enough for feelings to develop. He’d limited his relationships to women he had nothing in common with, women who’d looked good on his arm, who’d satisfied his sexual needs, but who he had no desire to spend any time talking to or getting to know. Between the rejection of his siblings, the rejection of his father, and Nessa’s betrayal, he’d slowly started withdrawing, creating a cold, callous persona that he wore like armor, impenetrable and unfeeling. And it had worked until a certain dark haired beauty waltzed with him and managed to strip him of that armor, laying him bare before her.

He looked into his empty glass, wishing like hell he could find the answers he needed at the bottom of it. He knew she probably needed him there, but she’d also never say it. In a lot of ways, she was almost as closed off as he was. She was better at hiding it, though, giving just enough crumbs of information that people thought they were getting to know her. He knew better. He’d been doing this long enough that he could spot rehearsed answers, the practiced speech of someone who hid away their secrets in a dark spot in the dusty recesses of their hardened, scarred hearts.

Those small moments they’d managed to steal, those snippets he got to see of her when she’d let her guard down and tell him something real…he lived for those moments. Her eyes would light up, swirling hues of blue and green, when she was happy, and they grew stormy, the color of lead and smoke when she was sad or upset. He would give anything to see those eyes right now, settling instead for yet another drink.

He’d lost count of how many he’d had at this point, but it didn’t really matter. Whatever hangover he might have tomorrow could be counted toward his penance. He was certain she was lost to him at this point, that he’d fucked it up the way he always did, by pushing her away.

The day of the crash, he hadn’t been able to let her go, the thought that it could have easily been her in one of those cars weighing on his mind as she clung to him, trembling and frightened. He wanted to keep her safe, to protect her, to make it so she’d never be that frightened again.

Instead, he thought about his showdown with Adam, how he’d tried like hell to grab her first. He knew that, in the long run, someone like Adam was better for a girl like her. She was so full of light that he didn’t want to ruin her with his darkness. He told himself it might be better for her if she did end up with Adam. When he’d come to Vince the day before to tell him about Myrah, he pushed down the feeling of guilt at not having been there with her and gruffly told him he already knew, that Omar had told everyone.

_“And?” he’d demanded._

_Vince shrugged._

_“And what? I can’t do anything about it, can I?”_

_Adam grabbed him by the collar as he started to walk away, pushing him against the wall and getting in his face._

_“You don’t deserve her, you bastard.”_

_Vince smirked, not giving away how much he agreed with that statement._

_“What’s the matter, Adam? Are you upset that I’ve taken something else from you?”_

_“You’re the reason she’s in the hospital you slimy son of a bitch!”_

_Adam has cocked his fist back, ready to land a blow when Omar happened upon them. He’d separated the men, told them to save it for when the cameras were rolling._  Omar hadescorted Adam away, leaving Vince to ruminate on his words.  _He_  was the reason she was in the hospital? What did that even mean?

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about  _her_. Instead he’d been sitting in this bar for hours throwing back glass after glass of liquid regret and considering all of his bad decisions. He looked up as he felt a hand on his arm, realizing how bleary his vision had grown.

“It’s you,” he said, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth, words slurring. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? It‘s late.”

“C’mon, let’s get you up to your room,” the woman’s voice cut through his haze.

“Should have ‘nother drink first.”

“No, I don’t think so, mister. You’ve had more than enough.”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, allowing her to help him to his feet.

* * *

Myrah was in the hotel lobby, looking for ice when she saw Vince and Ivy approaching the elevators together. Vince had a look she recognized immediately, one her father had worn most of her life. He wore the haggard expression of a man in pain, his uneven gait consistent with several drinks too many. She’d wondered why she hadn’t seen him since she got back to the hotel,and now she could guess it was because he’d been in the bar all day.

_But why is Ivy with him?_  she wondered with a pang.  _They’re friends, Myrah, just like you and Adam. Stop being jealous._

But her heart stopped beating when she heard Ivy’s words, “Come on, we’re almost to your room.”

The lobby swirled around her, colors of drab beige and light wood all mixing and becoming hard to see. She could hear whispers from behind her, it seemed that someone recognized her from the show. She turned in the directions of the whispers, trying hard not to think about what Ivy and Vince were going to his room to do. Tears stung her eyes but she refused to cry, refused to let herself be made a fool of by  _them._

The people who were whispering rushed to her when she turned, both gushing about how they were her biggest fans and asking for a selfie. Remembering that she was supposed to be the Flirt, she gave an exaggerated wink and told them their cameras couldn’t handle her hotness.

“That check out,” said the male fan.

“Uh, excuse us, Myrah, it seems like my  _boyfriend_  and I need to have a little chat,” the female fan said angrily.

“A ‘chat’ huh? Make sure you two use protection!” she called, thinking that she maybe should have heeded that advice herself. Then maybe she wouldn’t be in this mess.

As the two left, she heard laughter coming from the other side of the lobby. When she turned, she saw Jen, Adam, Mackenzie, Derek, and Wrenn all walking in her direction. As they complimented her for her ability to get out of breaking the rules, she noticed her mind going back to the elevators, to Vince and Ivy…together…

“…a night market a few blocks away. Just because we’re on hiatus doesn’t mean we gotta be hermits!” Derek was talking and she’d missed a chunk of it, but it sounded like they were advocating a night out. She looked around at the group, but really didn’t feel up to keeping up her facade right now. She hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy, and she didn’t want it slipping out to anyone before she was able to tell Vince about it. She shook her head.

“You guys go ahead without me. I’m still pretty worn out and could just use a good night’s sleep, I think.”

Adam frowned at her, a look of concern on his face. She knew he’d suspected, that he was the reason she’d even realized what was going on. She gave him a subtle nod to let him know she was okay and bid them farewell as she made her way to her room. Once behind closed doors, she finally let the mask slip. She’d spent the past 48 hours lost, lonely, and scared.

She wished she could call Peter, but they’d confiscated all cell phones and she couldn’t make a long-distance call to Monaco from the hotel. She wouldn’t even know how to reach him at this point anyway. What she needed right now, more than anything, was a mother. She needed someone to tell her everything was going to be okay. Her own mama had been gone from her life for almost 20 years, but there was someone else…

Her shaky fingers hovered over the buttons on the hotel phone. It was a number she’d dialed many times from the road, one she knew so well, and yet…she still hesitated. What would she say? What if she didn’t remember her? What if …

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and finished dialing. The ringing seemed to go on forever, each ring jarring her nerves, setting her on edge until she considered hanging up. Finally, she heard the click and a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Myrah opened her mouth to speak, wanting to say everything and nothing, but not finding her voice.

“Hello? Who  _is_  this? I swear, if this is one of you O’Rourke kids again, I’m gonna have your daddy whoop your hides until you can’t sit down for a week. You just wait until old …”

“Lulu?”

It was barely more than a whisper. She wasn’t even sure if the phone receiver was strong enough to pick it up, but she spoke nonetheless. The sound of Lulu’s voice, one she hadn’t heard since striking off on her own, leaving the skeletons of her past to rot in the ground beside the charred remains of her father, brought tears to her eyes. She cried for herself, for her past, for her lost childhood, and for her baby. The silent tears fell, sobs wracking her body, emotion so powerful she made no noise, but Lulu heard her just the same.

“Myrah? My Myrah bird? Oh, my baby girl is it really you? Where are you? Are you hurt? I can come get you, just tell me…”

Myrah placed the handset back onto the phone base, unable and unwilling to listen. She knew Lulu meant well, but she couldn’t go back, she didn’t belong there anymore and she’d never let her baby be raised in the circus. She had to stop with the self-pity, it surely couldn’t be good for the baby. She wiped her tears and smiled as she patted her still-flat abdomen.

“Don’t worry, little bean. We’ll always have each other.”

Myrah lay on the bed, allowing herself to finally get some good sleep in a real bed. No sooner had her eyes finally fluttered closed did she hear a raucous noise in the hall outside her room. It sounded like…no, it couldn’t be. But then, the pounding started on the door, accompanied by a very drunk voice bellowing her name.

“Myraaaaaahhhhh!  Myyyyyyraaaaahhh! Let me innnnn! Myyyyraaaaaahhh!”

She sighed. It wasn’t her job to babysit him, but knew if she didn’t do something he’d draw a crowd. Unlatching the door, she yanked it open, surprised by what she saw. The always put-together Vince stood in front of her, half naked, hair sticking in every direction, eyes red, watery, and puffy. He looked as though he’d been crying and she wanted nothing more than to run to him and hold him, but she held herself back, remembering what she’d seen earlier that night with Ivy. Instead she back away from the door to let him enter, shutting the door behind him and staring at him with her arms folded across her chest.

“What do you want, Vince,” she asked him coolly, hoping the crying she’d been doing earlier wasn’t also evident on her face.

He stumbled toward her, obviously still drunk, as though he was going to try to hug her. She side-stepped him, catching the stink of too-much alcohol on him, causing her to shudder at the memories it brought up for her.

“What’re we doing, Myrah?” he asked her. “How is this … this …  _game_ worth what we’re doing to each other?”

“Vince, you’re drunk. You should leave. Go back to Ivy.”

“Why the fuck would I want to go to Ivy?”

“I  _saw_  you two together! I heard her saying you two were going to your room!”

“ _You_ don’t get to accuse me of anything, Myrah Graves! I  _saw_  Adam in your room and  _you_  were damn near naked!”

“With the damn door open because he’d just knocked on it, you asshole!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” he shouted back.

“If you’d stopped and actually  _listened_  to me instead of jumping to conclusions, you  _would_ know that!”

“Well, Ivy was just helping me upstairs because I couldn’t walk on my own because I’d been drinking all day because of  _you_!”

“How the hell was that  _my_  fault?”

“Because you were all alone and I couldn’t fucking be there because of this stupid goddamn show so Adam got to be there for you instead!”

“What?” she asked, surprised, her voice becoming softer.

“Maybe that’s just for the best anyway, because everyone knows I’m no good, Myrah. I’d just drag you down and we’d just be failures together. You deserve someone like him,” the pain was seeping into his voice, his own words coming out more quietly, almost as though he were speaking more to himself than to her.

“Vince?” she said, putting her hand on his cheek to get him to look at her.

“Myrah, I …”

Before she knew what was happening his lips were on hers and they were pulling at each others clothes. He was only wearing pants, making it easier for her to undress him as they stumbled around the room, knocking each other into furniture until they both collapsed onto the bed. She bit his bottom lip, gently scraping her teeth across it as a groan escaped him. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his other arm encircled around her waist, holding her flush against him.

“Myrah, you feel so good. I thought…”

“Shhh.”

She reveled in the feeling of his hands exploring her bare skin, of his chest pressed against hers, the heat radiating off him. She ran a hand down his back, taut muscle and smooth lines, his muscles twitching beneath her touch. Every touch, every taste, none of it was enough, as though they would meld together as one if they could. He positioned them so that she was on top, straddling him, teasing him by rubbing herself along the length of his hard cock.

“Damn it, you’re such a tease,” he groaned, squeezing her ass as he thrust his hips to signal her to hurry up. She complied, guiding him to her entrance, sinking slowly down onto him as they moaned together, both realizing how much they’d missed this, how much they’d missed each other.

“Vince… oh, Vince,” she panted, feeling herself ready to go over the edge as she continued to grind her hips against him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered, biting down onto her shoulder as he thrust up into her, the room full of the sounds of their labored breathing, their sweat-slicked skin connecting, the faint creaking of the bed as they got closer and closer to release until finally, she cried out, her orgasm taking over. He continued to thrust into her, fucking her through it, until he also found his release.

They lay together afterwards, Vince having pulled Myrah close to him, holding her as though afraid to let her go. They didn’t speak, both contemplating what they’d done. They hadn’t talked through any of this, hadn’t settled anything. All they knew was that they were drawn to each other like moths to flames and both were afraid of being burned.


	16. Sins of the Father [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re in Iceland! Why? Shhh. Let’s not ask too many questions, okay? In this chapter, we meet Myrah’s big brother Peter, we learn more about Vince’s family, and we get a rare sweet memory of Myrah’s dad.

“How long have you been sleeping with Jen?”

Omar’s words had left her reeling, unsteady. She didn’t know how to even respond to the accusation, except to try to defend herself.

“Look, I’m not sure what you  _thought_  you saw. Jen’s been my producer for two seasons, so of course we became friends. But that’s all we are.  _Just friends._ ”

She knew she should control her temper better in front of a producer, but she was getting tired of being accused of sleeping with members of the crew over the past two seasons.

“Look, Myrah, we work in  _television_.  _Perception_  is all that matters and this doesn’t look good for either of you. Whatever this is, it has to end.  _Now._ A lot of people depend on this show, and it’s my job to protect it,” he said, all pretense of friendliness gone. “If I catch anything that looks even remotely compromising between you and Jen, I’ll have no choice but to report you to the studio.”

Omar slammed out of the studio, leaving Myrah to wonder what the hell he was talking about. She felt like a child who’d been called to the principal’s office for something she didn’t do, yet got into trouble anyway. Wrenn came in and tried to sympathize but she knew they couldn’t. They told her that filming didn’t start until the next day, and suggested she take the rest of the day off. They offered her a trip to the hot springs but she knew she couldn’t accept. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’d better stay in,” she said regretfully.

“If you’re sure,” Wrenn said, a small frown playing on their face. “There’s just one more thing, though. See, when you were in the hospital, we had to call your emergency contact, and…”

“And what?” she asked lightly, hoping the nervousness she was reading coming off Wrenn wasn’t some sign that Peter had done anything too outlandish.

“Well, he’s…on his way here.”

“He’s what?!?”

“We didn’t get through to him right away, so I’d left him a voicemail and, well, he called back while we were getting ready to leave Tarpon Springs. I told him we were on our way to Iceland, and he insisted he was flying out to see you. Said he had to make sure we weren’t just ‘covering our asses’ and lying about it,” they said with a small scowl.

“Yeah, sorry, he can be a bit, um… overprotective.”

“At any rate, Omar cleared him to be here as long as he’s gone before filming officially starts back up tomorrow.”

“Wrenn, this is amazing. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it, Myrah.”

Feeling much lighter, Myrah was practically skipping to her room when she changed her mind and knocked on Vince’s door instead. He opened it wearing a frown and no shirt and she momentarily forgot why she’d come to call on him as she drank in the sight.

“You know, you don’t have to gawk. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he said smugly, that cocky smirk on his face.

“Mm, true,” she said teasingly. “Guess I’ll have to remind you of that next time you’re staring at my ass.”

He pulled her inside, pushing her against the door once it was closed. He pressed a searing kiss to her lips that brought a low moan bubbling to her throat, a warm tingling spreading throughout her body as she melted into his touch. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his knuckles gently brushing her cheek.

“I’ve missed you, little bird,” he said before capturing her lips again.

She was trembling, lost in the sensation of his mouth trailing down her throat, his hands caressing the skin of her ribcage, light touches that left goosebumps in their wake. She reveled in the way his warm skin felt as she raked her nails lightly down his chest and stomach, toying with the waistband of his pants. He lifted her and carried her over to his bed, gently setting her down before crawling in with her. They’d been together so many times, and Myrah thought it was always something special, whether they were tearing at each others clothes in the throes of passion or whether it was more like this, slow, unhurried, almost languid. He was taking his time with her, paying attention to every sound, every intake of breath, as though he were savoring her.

She knew they had a lot to talk about. She knew she needed to tell him about the pregnancy, but she was honestly worried about how he might respond, and she selfishly wanted as much of him as she could have before things ended if he didn’t take it well. For now, she just wanted to be with him, to steal those moments of the surprisingly loving, kind, vulnerable man he didn’t show to anyone else. He’d told her he loved her, and she believed he might, in his own way, but she didn’t trust that would be enough. It hadn’t been enough for her parents. No, she had prepared herself for a future without him in it, and for now she was just going to make as many happy memories with him as possible.

She gasped as he nipped at her ear, pressing herself closer to him, needing to feel him touching her. She sat up to pull her top off and remove her bra before he pulled her tightly to his chest. The sensation of the skin-to-skin contact was incredible, causing more of her arousal to slick her thighs. She began to rub him through his pants, moaning when she felt how hard he was already. He whispered in her ear, his voice gruff with desire.

“Feel what you do to me, Myrah.”

“I  _feel_ like you need to lose these damn pants.”

“If the lady insists.”

After they’d both discarded the remainder of their clothes, he positioned himself over her, continuing to explore her body with his lips, tongue, and hands. She bucked her hips against his hand as he cupped her sex, moaning when he slipped two fingers inside her, running his thumb across her clit as his teeth scraped across the delicate skin of her throat.

“Vince, I…”

“Shhhh, I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble she felt in her whole body.

Shockwaves of pleasure coursed through her as his fingers pumped in and out of her, his thumb working her clit until she came undone with a quiet cry. He captured her lips with his own again before pulling one of her legs up to rest on his shoulder and lining himself up with her entrance.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come, Myrah,” he said as he teased her with the tip of his cock. “I could watch you like this all day.”

She gasped as he entered her slowly, easing himself in inch by inch before setting a languid pace. She was lost in the feeling, her pleasure overtaking her other senses until there was nothing but him, the way he moved against her, the feeling of him inside her, his scent, his voice as he moaned her name. She bucked up into him, urging him on, begging him to go faster.

He complied, increasing his pace until she was seeing stars, her breath coming in ragged bursts as the pleasure continued to build. He reached between them, circling her clit with his thumb and she let out a string of curses, the sensation almost pushing her over the edge.

“Fuck, I want to watch you come again. Come for me,” his voice was gravelly, his pleasure evident on his handsome face.

“Make me,” she panted, surprised by her boldness.

He growled, flipping them over until she was on top, fingers digging into her hips as she rode him. He leaned forward to capture one of her nipples in his mouth as he began to thrust up into her, teeth scraping her as he gently bit down, then soothing her with this tongue. She began to see white spots at the edge of her vision, her blood pumping harder in her ears as she came with an incoherent cry. He thrust up into her a few more times before he followed, her name spilling from his lips.

As they lay together, limbs tangled, he buried his face in her hair, murmuring something she didn’t hear. She pushed back to look at him, wanting to etch his features into her mind. She didn’t know when would be the last time they’d be together and she wanted to savor every moment.

“What’s on your mind?”

_So many things_ , she thought to herself. But she couldn’t voice what she was really thinking. Instead, she reminded herself of the reason she’d come here.

“I … as nice as this has been…”

“Only nice? Damn, I need to step up my game,” he said, a mock frown playing on his face.

She swatted his chest playfully as she laughed.

“Stop trying to distract me. I came here to tell you something.”

* * *

Vince listened intently as Myrah told him about her brother coming to set. It seemed like they were close; it was rare that she spoke about her past or her family at all, but the one time she’d opened up to him about Peter, she’d lit up. He couldn’t stop his smile as he listened to her excitement at seeing her brother.

“Isn’t that the best news?” she asked, beaming at him.

_Fucking hell, I’d do anything to see that damn look on her face._

“It’s great news,” he said, pushing her hair back from her face to place a light kiss on her forehead. “But why is he coming to set? Aren’t visitors prohibited?”

“I mean, Mackenzie’s sister was part of a challenge,” Myrah pointed out. “But yeah, he’s my emergency contact, so while I was in the hospital…”

Vince nodded as she trailed off, thankful she hadn’t finished the sentence. That was still a sore spot for both of them, both still nursing their respective wounds, but continuing to dance around the subject for fear of an argument breaking out. He felt a weight in his chest, a heavy sinking feeling as he thought about her sitting alone in that hospital. He vowed he’d never let her feel alone again.

“So when does he get here?” he asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Based on what Wrenn said, he’s on his way here. How long does it take to fly from Monaco to Iceland?”

“Wait, your brother lives in  _Monaco_?”

“Oh, um, he’s just … he’s there for work right now. He lives in New York.”

“Oh. What does he do?”

“He’s … an actor.”

He couldn’t help but notice her hesitation, but said nothing. If she felt she’d needed to hide something he wasn’t going to question it at this point. He knew all too well how touchy the subject of family could be. His own family was a sore subject for him. Sure he got along okay with his brother and sister, but he still resented them. They didn’t even have to try hard. Everything just came naturally to them…charisma, charm, talent, their father’s approval… he looked back at Myrah, who looked like she’d retreated back into herself. Reaching out to her to stroke his thumb across her cheek, he felt an urge to protect her. Whatever had happened in her family, whatever it was she was trying to hide, he wanted to shield her from those feelings.

“Hey, what’s on your mind?”

She looked back at him, shaking her head slightly as though to say she wasn’t ready to share her thoughts.

“Tell me more about your brother and sister,” she said, surprising him. “I want to hear more about  _your_  family.”

He was caught off guard. He didn’t really talk about his family, the wounds of his mother’s death and his father’s disapproval still cutting deeply after all these years. Hell, the reason he’d even gone on this damn show to begin with, the reason he’d done what he needed to in order to win was to try to finally win his father’s approval. A very public showing that he was respected, that he was popular. He thought maybe that would show the old man that he was worthy. Instead, he got a lecture about how much shame he’d brought to their family.

_How am I supposed to show my face at the country club now, Vincent? What do you think your mother would have said about this? Do you understand how embarrassing this is for me? Why can’t you be more like your brother and sister? Get out of my sight._

He shook off the thought, the memory of his father’s disdain too much. Myrah was still looking at him expectantly, and he knew he couldn’t deny her anything. The ghosts of his memories might still haunt him, but they couldn’t hurt him. He took a deep breath and decided to do something with her he hadn’t done with anyone since Nessa. He decided to be honest.

“I’ve already told you that I was younger than Frankie and Lisa. I was just a kid when they were in high school, and I really looked up to them. They had everything I wanted. They were popular, they were talented, and my parents adored them. Especially my dad. He’s not an affectionate guy, but he always told them he was proud of them…”

He paused, laying back on the pillows and looking up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure he could make eye contact with her for this story.

“They were both good at a lot of different things, but while they were in high school they were both in arts programs. Frankie played the guitar. Lisa did theatre. My parents would go out of their way to see his recitals and her shows, and I’d always get brought along, but I never had anything of my own. I had tried piano lessons, and I was  _okay_  at it, but not good. I was signed up for art classes, for violin lessons, none of it took. As a last resort, I was signed up for ballroom dance classes. Again, I was  _okay_ but not good enough to compete or anything.”

“Are you serious? You dance like a professional,” she protested.

“I’m adequate,” he said, echoing his father’s words. “But  _adequate_  isn’t good enough. Anyway, I decided I wanted to play the guitar like Frankie, so I tried to get him to teach me. He wouldn’t, so I watched a bunch of videos of people playing the guitar and tried to teach myself. Problem was, I didn’t  _own_  a guitar, so I used his.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah. So keep in mind that I’m like … I don’t know 8, maybe? And I was a small kid. Didn’t hit my growth spurt for a few years later. This guitar was massive compared to me. But I snuck it out of his room while he was out with his friends and started practicing. And it was going great until I broke one of the strings.”

“Oh no…”

“That’s not even the worst part. When the string broke, I panicked because I thought that meant the whole guitar was broken. I didn’t realize you could just replace the strings. So in my panic, I hid it under my bed, thinking maybe he’d think he’d lost it. Stupid, I know, but my 8-year-old brain thought it seemed really logical. So he comes home and his guitar is missing, and first thing he does is ask Lisa if she’s seen it. She tells him she’s been hearing me playing with it because of course it’s not something you can practice quietly, and so naturally he comes storming into my room.”

He chuckled at the memory, reminded of the look on his brother’s face.

“So here I am, sitting on my bed and looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary. He demands to know where the guitar is and I thought my best bet was to play stupid. So I asked him what guitar he was talking about, and that was as good as an admission of guilt, I guess, because he started tearing my room apart looking for it. I started getting upset because he was just throwing things on the floor, and naturally all the noise drew my parents’ attention.”

He stopped to take a breath, the memory of what came next squeezing his chest like a vice.

“Did you get in trouble?” Myrah asked quietly. He nodded, still refusing to look anywhere but the ceiling.

“My dad asked what was going on, and when Frankie told him, he insisted I produce the guitar or I’d be in big trouble. I was afraid of my dad, so you better believe I pulled that thing out from under the bed fast. But I was in such a hurry to get it out, and I was so awkward, that as I was pulling it out it hit the bed frame and I accidentally broke the neck of it. You could’ve heard a pin drop in that room. It was eerily silent, until it wasn’t. Frankie starting cursing me out, my father was yelling at me and I was just … standing there in the middle of it all, holding this broken guitar. Next thing I knew, my mom was pulling Frankie out of the room and telling him they’d buy him a new one, but my dad…he just stood there looking at me with so much disappointment on his face. He told me I wasn’t his son, that I was dead to him. Told me I wasn’t to leave my room for the rest of the day, no dinner, and I had to clean up the mess in my room that Frankie had made.”

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, putting her hand on his cheek, urging him to look at her. “Vince, I … you didn’t deserve that.”

He shrugged.  _It is what it is._  “I told you that everyone lets you down eventually, little bird,” he said with a sad smile. “But the part I really wanted to get to was what happened next. My mom refused to let me go to bed without dinner. So she sent Frankie up to my room with a plate behind my dad’s back. I hadn’t done anything at that point to clean up the room. After my dad had left, I’d just sat in the middle of the chaos and cried. When Frankie came in, he saw me there and he let me eat while he did most of the cleanup. We might not have always been close, but he really came through for me that night.”

He was surprised when she crashed her lips to his, kissing him with a fervor that didn’t seem to fit the story he’d just told her, but that made him feel warm, safe,  _loved._ He had sworn he’d never let feelings be a part of any romantic entanglements he found himself in ever again, but Myrah was just different. There was some part of her that seemed to understand him, there was a depth to her that he wanted to know and to understand better. There was some hidden darkness to her that seemed to be locked away from everyone else but that he wanted her to show him. He was madly in love with her and it was killing him to keep it a secret.

* * *

Myrah couldn’t stop thinking about what Vince had shared with her earlier. It seemed that they had more in common than she’d initially thought. She knew she’d never be able to be completely honest with him, but maybe she could be more open about some things. She was buzzing with excitement over seeing Peter again and she’d asked Vince to come with her to meet him. The car was supposed to arrive any minute, Wrenn had told her, and so she was waiting in the living room of Carson’s home. When the door opened, one of the production assistant’s leading Peter inside, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Myrah, my diamond!” he said, squeezing her hard and spinning her around after recovering from her initial assault. “I miss you, love! How are you? What have they done to you? Are you alright? You look pale. Why are you so pale?”

“Whoa, calm down,” she laughed. “I’m fine! It was just a little dehydration.”

He eyed her suspiciously. She knew he knew her well enough to know when she was hiding something, but she couldn’t tell him here. She grabbed his hand and led him to the couch, where Vince had stood and was waiting to meet him.

“Oooh, who’s the hottie with the body?” Peter asked, causing a blush to rise on Vince’s cheeks.

“I’m…um… _excuse_ me?”

Myrah laughed. “Vince, this rude man is my brother Peter. Peter this, is my … uh… my  _friend_ , Vince.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re  _friend_ , hm? Darling, I am expecting the full story later. Meanwhile, it’s lovely to meet you, Vince. I hope my dear sister hasn’t been giving you too much trouble. She’s a handful.”

Vince looked like he didn’t know how to respond to Peter, which struck Myrah as funny. She giggled at his discomfort and mouthed “sorry” to him.

“She’s definitely a handful,” Vince shot back. “But luckily, I lo- … I like her anyway.”

It was Myrah’s turn to flush. She knew what he’d stopped himself from saying and couldn’t help but feel her heart speeding up at the idea of him almost blurting it out like that. They sat talking for a while, and Myrah was pleased at how well the two men took to each other, establishing an easy rapport as though they’d known each other their whole lives.

“Well,” Vince said, rising to his feet,” it’s been a pleasure getting to finally meet the infamous Peter I’ve heard so much about. But I should really leave you two to catch up.”

“Believe me the pleasure was all mine,” Peter responded, shaking Vince’s hand.

He watched as Vince walked away, going to back to his room. Once he was gone, Peter turned back to her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Alright, spill. What the hell are you doing, Myrah?”

She  was taken aback at his tone, so different from she’d expected.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“First of all, you’ve fallen for your own damn con. I’ve seen that look on your face before, and don’t even try to deny it. How long has it been going on?”

She sighed. “Since the first week of filming.”

“Oh, honey, you’ve got it so bad. You  _know_  better, Myrah. That kind of life isn’t for us. We live on the sidelines. It’s who we are.”

She nodded. She knew he was right.  _Love makes you weak_ , her dad always said.

“But Vince…”

“Does Vince know who you are? Do you think he’d stick around if he knew?”

She felt like she’d been slapped in the face.

“No….”

“Myrah, my diamond, you know how much I love you. I know it hurts to hear this, but he’s not one of us. Use him however you need to, but don’t lose yourself in the process. Now,” he continued, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “talk to me about why you were really in the hospital. Because it wasn’t just dehydration.”

She filled him in on what had happened, learning about the pregnancy.

“It’s his, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

“Darling, when this job is done, I’m going to have more than enough money. When this is all over you and that little bun in your oven should come to LA with me, let me help take care of you.”

“I don’t need your charity, I can do this on my own.”

“Darling, you haven’t even told him yet, have you?”

It was more statement than question. He was right, of course. She hadn’t told him. She didn’t know how to tell him. She shook her head.

“Does anyone know?”

She thought of Adam. “One person might know, but I’m keeping it quiet for now.”

“Just…think about my offer? Please?”

“I’ll think about it. Now come on, I want you to meet some of my friends before you have to leave again.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, Peter charming everyone he met. Before he left, he’d handed her a photograph. It was their father, but so much younger than she remembered him, posed with two of his friends. She recognized one of them, a strongman. He had a stage name like everyone else, but she always knew him as Joe. She didn’t recognize the man in makeup between the two.

“What’s this?”

“I thought you might want to have it. Found it when I was going through my old trunk. I didn’t want any reminders of the old bastard hanging around, but … I know you didn’t hate him like I did,” he said. Then he added, under his breath, “Even though you had every reason to.”

She thanked him, hugging him fiercely before he left again, back to whatever illegal thing he was attempting to do with an admonition from her to stay safe and not do anything too stupid.

Later that night, she lay awake studying the photograph. She’d never seen her father looking like that before. She thought back to a few weeks before he died.

_Myrah had returned to the trailer after a rigorous practice session, doing her best to get into peak touring condition. She’d been rehired to tour with a smaller but well-known circus and she was determined that she was going to blow them away. When she walked in, her dad was slumped on the couch with a cigar and a bottle._

_She was sure he’d been a handsome man in his day. But time and tequila had caught up with him, his face now a roadmap of regret and bad decisions. He’d been drinking all day again, she usually knew based on how well he could stand on his own. She was wary of these days because she never knew what type of drunk he was going to be that day._

_Fortunately for her, today was a “sad drunk” day, the kind of drunk he’d get when he thought about her mama and would tell Myrah stories about his life on the road before the shakes got to him and he couldn’t perform his act anymore._

_“C’mere girl,” he slurred from the couch. “Come say hi to your daddy.”_

_She approached cautiously, never knowing when the winds would change with him, when he’d go from loving father to the monster that would take him over. He patted the cushion next to him, an invitation for her to sit. As she did, he threw an arm around her shoulder, squeezing gently in a small side hug as he flicked the ashes from his cigar into the glass ashtray sat on the arm of the couch beside him._

_“I know I ain’t been easy to live with since your mama left, Myrah. There’s a lot of things I wish I’d done different. But you know I loved you, don’t you? Hell, you deserve a better father than me, that’s for damn sure, but I tried. I tried so hard. I always loved you, my girl.”_

_His eyes were watery, full of the kind of sadness that comes with the weariness of a life ill-spent. The jagged cuts of his own disappointment ran deep within himself and she couldn’t hold a grudge against someone whose very skin seeped with that kind of pain._

“I loved you, too, dad,” she whispered through her own tears as she lay awake and alone, the regrets and sadness she’d seen reflected in his eyes just echoes of her own.

 


End file.
